


Something Dark Yet Divine

by ObsidionWingsofMidnight



Series: Lawlu Fairy Tale AU's [2]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Twelve Dancing Princesses Fusion, Angst out the wazoo, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dark, Fairy Tale Retellings, Heavy Angst, Horror, M/M, Mild Horror, Minor Character Death, be prepared for very long waits for updates lol, if you know literally anything about me you know that i am not a fast updater, it's really more creepy than it is scary, no update schedule we die like men, still light hearted at times tho because what am i without my terrible sense of humor????, this wasn't originally going to be abo but since they're not all girls i needed it for plot reasons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2020-11-01 09:13:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 29,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20812661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsidionWingsofMidnight/pseuds/ObsidionWingsofMidnight
Summary: There were twelve of them once.But one by one, death danced along to claim them.If things continued like this, he'd become the heir and then pass on as well before their father even had time to put away his mourning clothes. But maybe, just maybe, the new gardener could change things around for the better. He wasn't going to get his hopes up though- Luffy kind of seemed like an idiot.





	1. To the Salt

The necklace that sat on his sister’s chest was ugly. That was all Law could think about as he and his family stood quietly regarding her. The metal was dull, and there was only a simple flower carved into it. Not the kind of delicate craftmanship Scarlett adored and usually wore. Their father must have picked it out for her. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and rip it from her, to offer her something nicer- even the thin black chain with its singular black pearl around his neck would be better- but the pallbearers shut the lid of her coffin before he got the chance. 

The High Mariner began reciting her last rights, but Law heard none of it. All he could focus on were the quiet sobs of his siblings and how Scarlett should have been wearing a different necklace. 

Bepo nudged him lightly on the arm. He’d missed one of the speaking cues. 

“To the Salt,” he murmured belatedly. He did not miss the burning disapproval in their father’s eyes. 

But what did he expect? Law never was good at expressing his emotions- least of all grief. He’d been plagued by grief his whole life. The only way he knew how to get through it anymore was to be numb. 

The High Mariner continued, “We are born of the Salt, we live by the Salt, and to the Salt we return.” 

“To the Salt,” everyone replied. 

The mausoleum was filled to the brim with mourners, all decked head to toe in black. Many of them were suitors of Scarlett’s. She would have been amused to see how many of them had shown up to her funeral. She’d always been so popular. 

She had been the kind of omega everyone dreamed of- beautiful, kind, friendly… She was basically the opposite of Law. 

Not that it had ever mattered to her. They may not have been related by blood, but she had been his sister through and through. They’d been there for each other through many ups and downs- all of them had. She had always been the one who shined brightest of them though. She had picked all of them up on many occasions, the one to remind them that tomorrow was another day, and that they could make it a better day if they truly wanted to. 

And now she was gone. 

With a few last words from the High Mariner, the pallbearers pushed her out to sea to be claimed by the Brine. 

Viola and Rebecca, her sisters by blood, were clutching to each other desperately as they wept. He longed to reach out and comfort them, but knew it was futile. What could he possibly say to make them feel better? He was shit at comforting Lami when she skinned her knee- how could he possibly fix the grief of a loved one’s death? No, it was better that he stayed where he was, stone still and not getting in anyone’s way. 

He tried to summon up some tears for his sister- he knew they would come eventually. It was just that usually when the tears came, no one else was around. No one living anyway. 

He’d spent many a day crying in this very mausoleum in his younger years. Although, it was really more of a cave than a crypt. The only thing special about it was the river that ran along the bottom, which they used to carry generations of Sengoku’s family out to sea. If it weren’t for the river and the shrines, it would be nothing more than an ordinary cave. 

In those days, he’d been a child, thrust into a new home, a new life, with no one to turn to. Then, as the years passed and more and more members were added to his family, he learned to trust in other people again. 

Only now, they were being ripped away. 

There were twelve of them once. 

People used to call them Sengoku’s shining dozen. Monet had been the oldest, although Jean Bart had only been a few months younger. They had been as thick as thieves. Scarlett had been a year younger than them, and Viola another year after that. Law had been fifth in line, and Bepo the sixth. Shachi, Penguin, and Rebecca were all sixteen, and although their birthdays didn’t match up and they shared no blood, everyone referred to them as The Triplets anyways. They were practically joined at the hips, so none of them minded the nickname. Dellinger had been the most recent addition four years ago, although he was not the youngest at fourteen. Lami was Law’s only blood relative, just a baby when their birth parents had died ten years past, and they found themselves on Swallow Island. She was still not the baby of the family; that title went to seven-year-old Sugar, whose only blood relation had been Monet. 

A dozen they certainly were no longer. 

It began with Monet, who died almost two years past from a terrible sickness. She’d only been a year older than Law was now, when she died. It had been a hard blow on everyone, but especially for Law, who would always be haunted by the memories of everyone he’d ever known in Flevance being claimed in similar fashion by the White Plague. He still had the white marks splayed across his skin to show for it. 

Her grave marker had an open book carved upon it, with snowflakes inscribed into the pages instead of words. A dove rested on the edge, looking over the book like it wanted to study what was written. 

Jean Bart had followed less than a year later. He was found in the bath tub, fully clothed and surrounded by rose petals. Monet had always loved roses. He’d been distraught after her death, so they couldn’t say they were surprised when he passed, but that didn’t mean they’d been expecting it. It certainly didn’t make it hurt any less either. His marker was covered in roses, with another dove that peered over to his sister’s. 

Their deaths left the rest of the family reeling in their wake, but they tried to pick themselves back up. And now, just as they were starting to get comfortable again, Scarlett was taken away. 

When they found her body crumpled along the bottom of the cliffs, it felt like all the sunlight had been drained from the sky. 

Even the weather seemed to agree with this sentiment- a cold splash on his face told him that it must have started raining outside. They were protected from most of it in here, but stray drops would still trickle through the ceiling. 

He looked once more at Rebecca- she looked so much like Scarlett it was almost like he was seeing a younger version of his older sister again. They used to joke that Scarlett was Rebecca’s mother with the way she always fussed over her. They wouldn’t get to make any jokes with Scarlett anymore. And she would never get to fuss over her little sister again. 

Shachi and Penguin both gathered around her instead, hugging her with quiet words of encouragement as they led her away with Viola hot on their heels. She grabbed Dellinger’s hand as she passed by, handing him a handkerchief to wipe his eyes with. Law was so caught up in his tangled thoughts, he hadn’t realized the service had ended. Everyone else was trickling out of the mausoleum to attend Scarlett’s wake, but he hadn’t moved an inch. 

Most of them ignored him, but he couldn’t help but notice a few people make a few discreet hand gestures as they passed him. Little movements like they were about to bless him, but in such a way it was more like they were protecting themselves from him instead. From the curse that people were whispering had struck his family. 

Bepo shot him another look, but he waved him away, gesturing at Lami and Sugar. They would need someone’s hand to hold as well, and Law needed another moment. 

“Don’t be too long,” he said softly, giving him a quick one-armed hug before leaving. 

Sengoku lingered for a moment as well, nose red and eyes shining from unshed tears in the candlelight. Law wanted to comfort him as well, and for all his inability to do it effectively, he knew his father would understand what he was trying to do. 

His new step-mother beat him to it though, leaning up to wipe at his eyes for him and give him a sweet smile. 

When Sengoku had left for business on the mainland a few months ago, he had returned with a surprise dangling off his arm. Law had been somewhat revolted that his father had married someone who was young enough to be his granddaughter, but it was hard to remain that way when he saw how deliriously happy they were together. None of them had much to be happy about since Monet died- who was he to deny his father happiness? And no one was getting hurt by it, so he let it go. 

His father gave him one last fleeting look before letting his wife pull him away, but Law didn’t think on it. He was too busy staring at Scarlett’s coffin as the water carried it away. 

He knelt in the empty space next to Jean Bart’s shrine, where he imagined Scarlett’s would be placed. What would the artists decorate her grave marker with? More stone flowers to remind the visitors of life in a place that was devoid of it? 

“There were an awful lot of suitors here today,” he began. “You would have been pleased to see how much they cared for you. Did you have your eye set on any of them? There were so many…. Even Kyros was there. Although if you had seen him, you probably would have yelled at him to get out,” he chuckled softly. 

Kind and gentle his sister may have been, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have plenty of spark in her. For some reason, she always got riled up when the fisherman was around. One time Law and Viola had come across the pair arguing about the best way to tie off a dingy. They’d been shouting so loud they’d scared the entire population of seagulls from the docks. Despite this, he knew they’d actually been friends. They just happened to be friends that yelled at each other a lot. 

She made a lot of unlikely friends. The fact that she could make friends with practically anyone probably had something to do with that. After all, she’d managed to befriend Law less than a week after she’d first arrived, and that was no easy feat. 

“I’m going to miss you, Scarlett,” he admitted quietly. 

It was then that the tears came, burning behind his eyes and blurring his vision. They dripped down his cheeks, hot and salty. _ We are born of the Salt _ , the High Mariner’s voice echoed through his mind. _ And to the Salt we return _. 

“What were you doing out on those cliffs that night anyway? You should have known it was dangerous. And you hated heights. Did you think you were safe just because it was dark enough you couldn’t see the drop that scared you so much?” he asked bitterly. It was terribly rude of him, but he couldn’t help it. She’d always found his blunt rudeness to be endearing somehow anyway. 

“Were you pushed?” he wondered aloud before immediately wishing that he could take such a thought back. No one would have shoved her off the cliff. For one, everyone loved her, and furthermore, it was an awful thing that they would have no reason to do. It was impossible to think of anyone wanting to cause Scarlett harm. She’d been far too sweet. 

“Tell Monet and Jean Bart I said hello,” he said, brushing off his trousers as he got to his feet. If he took much longer, the others might forget he was there and leave without him. He would have to walk back home, and while he didn’t normally mind, on this particular day, he didn’t want to be left completely alone with his thoughts. 

He paused at the mouth of the cave, swallowing past the grief to turn back one last time to glance at the river. “Goodbye, Scarlett.” 

He took the arm Viola offered him when he emerged, and tried not to think about how her eyes were the exact same shade of brown as the sister’s they had just set adrift. 

* * *

A loud harrumph and a tug on his coat halted him in his tracks. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” Tsuru, their maid, asked. 

He turned around and frowned at the black ribbon she held out. It was customary for a household to wear them after a loved one died- it was supposed to keep you from following in their footsteps. Law thought it was a load of horseshit- he certainly wasn’t going wandering about the cliff face anytime soon- but complied nonetheless. Tsuru was old, but she was stubborn as all get out. 

She’d made him wear one after Monet and Jean Bart’s funerals too. 

He’d had to change into nicer clothes when he returned because apparently one couldn’t wear their finest mourning clothes in a damp cave, but they were definitely required to wear them at the wake. He was rather hoping to get out of wearing the ribbon this time, but it was not meant to be. 

She looped the fabric around his neck, tying it into a perfect bow around the high collar of his shirt. It was, in his opinion, a very pretty noose. 

As if she could hear his morbid thoughts, Tsuru pinched him on the cheek and told him not to look so morose. The wake was supposed to be a celebration of Scarlett’s life- not a drab funeral surrounded by rocks. 

“Can’t I just stay here with you?” he asked. If he lied to himself, he could pretend like he didn’t sound petulant. 

She patted him gently on the cheek she had pinched just moments before. “The sooner you get down there, the sooner it will be over with. Now go on- we’re already late enough as it is since it took so long to get you in that coat.” The aforementioned coat, was a very fine piece of work, but the last time he’d worn it had been at Jean Bart’s wake. He had been very reluctant to put it on again, but as it was the nicest black coat he owned, he didn’t have much choice in the matter. 

He sighed, and tried not to drag his feet too much as Tsuru led him downstairs. 

* * *

Baby 5 approached him as soon as he stepped into the ballroom, where the wake was being held. “Sit with me? I don’t really know anyone here,” she said, looking anxiously around. 

He didn’t really want to spend the wake with his step-mother, but it was hard to turn her down when she looked at him like that. The vulnerability she showed him only served to remind him that despite the fact she was now married to Law’s father, she and him were actually the same age. What must it be like when you can only seek friendship through those that are now seen as your children? 

“Fine,” he said. She didn’t seem to mind his curt answer if the relieved smile he got in return was anything to go by. 

She led him over to an empty sofa by the tall windows on the northern wall that overlooked the cliffs. It was a beautiful view on any given day, but that particular day it made bile rise in his throat. It felt wrong to hold Scarlett’s wake in a room that had such a clear view of the place she had died. If he tried, he could easily picture her there, walking along the edge in the scant moonlight, slipping past the horizon to her demise. 

He blinked past the image, focusing back in on Baby 5. He wished he could join his siblings instead- any of them- but he knew it would make Sengoku happy if he kept his bride company. And he would have felt a little bad if he left her on her own. He was still…uncomfortable with the age difference between her and his father, but it was hard to imagine the man ever taking advantage of her. He was very insistent on honor and morality. And Baby 5 was harmless. At worst, she was clingy. 

“Are all the ceremonies like that?” she whispered. His blank stare prompted her to continue. “I mean, it was just so serious and sad.” She smoothed out the skirt of her dress, picking off imaginary lint. 

He couldn’t help but be a bit bemused at that. “It _ was _ a funeral,” he reminded her. 

She blushed very flatteringly. “No, of course. I just meant- what was all that about the water and salt? How come you don’t bury people the way they do on the mainland?” 

This seemed like something Sengoku ought to be explaining to her instead, but he was busy with the guests at the moment. “The High Mariner says that Shanks, the god of the sea, was the one to create mankind. He fashioned us from clay and water, and breathed his own life into us, creating the People of the Salt. All humans are supposed to originate from him, but only those that live near the sea can hear his call when we pass. That’s why, when we die, we can’t be buried in the ground. We must slip back into open waters, so that we can return home.” 

“That sounds lovely,” she said, a shimmer in her eyes. “See, why can’t he have said something like that at the funeral? It would have sounded so much nicer. Instead it just seemed so focused on… Well, death.” 

“Perhaps you can talk to the High Mariner about it yourself sometime,” he suggested dryly. 

She flushed again. “Oh, Law, you must think me so silly!” she said, resting her hands on her rosy cheeks. “It’s just that- aren’t you tired of all this? All the sorrow and bleakness?” 

He blinked. “Well, a little, I suppose…” Mostly he was tired of his family dying on him, but he guessed the things she mentioned factored into that. 

“And it doesn’t end here, does it? We still have to wear black for a few more weeks, don’t we?” she said conspiratorially. 

“Six months, actually. Then we can wear dark grays for the next six after that,” he corrected her. 

She gasped. “A year? I have to wear these dour clothes for a whole _ year _?” She looked positively horrified at the idea, however a few choice looks at her outburst had her looking chagrin. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to sound insensitive- it’s just that… Well, your father just bought me my bridal trousseau, and nothing in it is black.” She didn’t have any black clothes of her own yet- the dress she wore now was one of Viola’s. 

“And it’s not just the clothes, of course. What of you and Viola? Or Bepo? You shouldn’t be stuck here wallowing away forever. You should be out dancing, entering society and trying to find a mate,” she said earnestly. 

He held back his disdain at the thought. “I don’t much feel like dancing. Especially not when I’ve just lost a sister.” 

“Oh, nothing I’m saying is coming out right today,” she whimpered. “What I mean is- is- oh dear. Don’t you all deserve to be happy? You’ve already spent so long mourning others- haven’t you grieved enough? I think it’s high time for this family to enjoy life again. Sugar and Lami should be out playing in the garden! The triplets should be getting ready to be presented to high society!” She grabbed his hands as if she wished to transfer her conviction through them. 

He didn’t quite know what to say to that. It would be good for his family to be happy again, but it didn’t seem likely any time soon. “Yes, well, this is just what you do after someone passes away. These are dark times, after all.” 

“But what if it wasn’t?” she said hurriedly. “What if there was something to celebrate- something that would bring sunlight back into our lives?” 

“I’m not sure what could combat the pain of a loved one’s death-” 

“What about a new life?” she whispered excitedly, placing a discreet hand on her midsection. Her eyes practically sparkled at the news she was dropping on Law like a pile of bricks. 

There was a split second where he could have sworn he blacked out, but if he did then Baby 5 gave no indication that she noticed. “You’re _ pregnant _?” he hissed, casting a furtive glance around the room to see if anyone had been eavesdropping on their conversation. 

Sengoku and she…. She and Sengoku…. oh Gods, he couldn’t even think about. 

“Does he know?” he asked. It was obvious that he didn’t have to clarify who he was speaking of. 

She shook her head. “Not yet. I was going to tell him the other day, but we got interrupted when the fishermen- when we heard about Scarlett.” She clutched at her stomach protectively, although there was no discernable bump that he could see. 

“How far along are you?” 

“About three months I think? Do you think he’ll be pleased?” She dropped her eyes and began to twist her hands in the folds of her skirt. 

He reached out to pat her awkwardly on the shoulder. “I’m sure he’ll be thrilled. It will probably make his day much brighter,” he said, trying to sound encouraging. 

She smiled up at him through her eyelashes. “You really think so?” He nodded. “Then such wonderful news ought to be shared, should it not?” she said as she stood up and crossed the room to stand beside Sengoku. 

She picked up a silver bell that laid on the table next to them and rang it to gather everyone’s attention. Law felt a sudden sinking in his stomach as he realized what she was about to do. This is what he got for trying to be comforting- now the rest of his siblings’ night was about to be ruined. 

* * *

“‘And just like your shining memories of Scarlett, a new chapter dawns on our house to chase away the shadows of grief with the arrival of our son.’ _ What a load of bull _!” Viola spat out as she flung herself onto Law’s bed. 

“She’s got a lot of nerve announcing such news during Scarlett’s wake,” Rebecca agreed. “We’re supposed to be using the time to honor Scarlett’s memory, but she used it as a way to make sure everyone was there to hear the surprise from her own mouth. I hope she chokes on her breakfast.” She too flopped back on Law’s pillows, huffing and crossing her arms. 

Shachi and Penguin snuggled up against her, trying to soothe the wrinkle in her brow. “She could have chosen a better time,” Penguin admitted, pulling the ribbon from the end of her braid off so he could run his hands through her hair. 

Law glanced over at the lot of them and wondered if they expected to all sleep in a dog pile on his bed for the night. His bed may have been sizeable, but the four of them plus him was definitely a stretch. Not to mention the other two inhabitants of the room, who surely wouldn’t want to miss out. 

Dellinger was fiddling with one of the tasseled ropes that kept the curtains of his canopy open. “She’s so sure that it’s going to be an alpha. Did you hear her? I swear I heard her say it to fifty people,” he said, rolling his eyes. 

“Ugh, please. As if she could possibly know this early on. She just wants her baby to be an alpha because she thinks it will become the heir that way. I heard her telling old what’s-his-face. The one that’s always scowling. Said she had the next duke growing in her belly,” said Viola. She had an expression on her face that would have made his ceiling cringe in terror if it were sentient. 

“Would it? I mean, if the baby was an alpha, would it become the next Duke of North Blue?” Shachi asked, rolling over to look at her. He, like the majority of them, was an omega. Bepo, Lami, and Monet had all been betas. Jean Bart had been the only alpha of Sengoku’s ragtag assemble of children. 

She snorted. “Hardly. I still inherit everything, no matter what the baby’s secondary gender is. And after the curse claims me, then Law will be next in line.” 

“There’s no curse,” he said, voice steely. He was so fucking sick of hearing about this stupid, make-believe curse on their family. 

“Whatever,” Viola waved him off. “The important thing is: the heir of Highmoor is always the oldest child in the family. They may make it so alphas are always first up on the mainland, but we do things our own way on the islands.” 

“I’d love to see her face when father breaks the news to her,” Rebecca sighed. Her eyes were beginning to droop, and Law was resigning himself to a very cramped bed space that night. 

Bepo tucked the Triplets under the covers and patted them down. “She’s just excited. I’m sure she’ll take the news gracefully whenever she learns how things work here.” He sat down on the edge of the mattress and welcomed Dellinger into his arms as the younger boy burrowed into his side. 

“How far along is she? Do you know Law? I saw you two were getting awfully chummy back at the wake,” Viola said. 

He sighed, peeling off his mourning clothes to replace them with a black night shirt. “She said about three months. Maybe longer. And don’t give me that look- I was just trying to be nice. That’s something you’re always saying I should improve on, isn’t it?” 

She stuck her tongue out at him before throwing a pillow weakly in his direction. 

“Longer? They’ve only been married for four,” she smirked. 

Penguin leaned over Rebecca and Shachi to look at her. “How come she bothers you so much, Viola? I think it’s nice that father’s finally found someone that makes him so happy. And Lami and Sugar both love having a mother.” 

“She’s not their mother. Or ours. She’s just a stranger that found her way into father’s bed,” she said sharply. 

“She’s trying,” Bepo tried to soothe her. “It must be hard for her to come here and leave everything she’s ever known behind.” 

Shachi nodded along enthusiastically. “Yeah! And she offered to help plan our ball- it will be like our debut since we can’t go out to court while we’re in mourning.” His whole face lit up, and Law was sure he was imagining a grand evening full of fancy clothes and people vying for his affection. 

“You’re not allowed to throw a ball while you’re in mourning either,” Viola reminded him, effectively squashing his dream. 

“What?! But that’s so unfair!” Penguin cried, making Rebecca squawk as he accidentally smacked her in the stomach in his haste to get upright. “Rebecca’s turning sixteen soon! How come we have to put off everything fun for a whole year? I’m tired of mourning,” he whined. 

“Yes, well, I’m sure your siblings are tired of being dead, but there’s not much we can do about it right now,” Law replied, shutting everyone up real good. Even Viola didn’t have anything to say to that. 

He almost felt bad about it, but he hadn’t meant it in a mean way. 

Eventually, Rebecca broke the silence. “Would it really be so bad if we went along with Baby 5’s plan? We only turn sixteen once… And it’s not like it’s our fault that everyone keeps dying,” she said quietly. 

“It’s not like you three would be the only ones to miss out. Law and Bepo didn’t get to have one either, and mine got canceled as soon as Monet started showing signs of illness,” Viola pointed out. Monet’s sickness came so suddenly- even though she held on for so long afterwards- that they’d all been in a right panic when her skin started turning black. Throwing Viola’s sixteenth birthday ball had been the least of their worries. 

Dellinger scrunched up his nose. “Yeah, but Law doesn’t count. He’d never want a ball thrown in his honor in a million years.” He ducked behind Bepo to hide from the pillow Law picked up from the floor to chuck at him. 

It wasn’t like he was wrong. Law hated being the center of attention, and he certainly didn’t want any from dumb alphas that wanted to mate with him. 

“Shut it, you. And I don’t think it’s wrong to want to celebrate. Baby 5 was right when she said we could use some cheering up. I just think it might be a little soon for it, that’s all.” 

“Scarlett wouldn’t want us to put it off because of her,” Rebecca said. “And I don’t turn sixteen for another few weeks. We could mourn until then, and after that we can just…stop.” 

“Well, I don’t know why you’re trying to convince us,” Viola cut in. “It’s Sengoku who has to approve it.” 

The Triplets shared giddy looks. “Baby 5 could get him to approve it. All she has to do is ask him nicely….while they’re in bed,” Penguin said before the three of them broke into raucous laughter. 

A knock on the door quieted them, and they were all sure it was their father coming to scold them for being so noisy. Instead, when Law opened the door he found Sugar standing in front of him, peering up at him tearfully from the hallway. 

“Sugar? What’s wrong? Did we wake you?” 

She didn’t reply, but she did hold out her arms- a sure sign that she wanted to be held. Law stooped down to pick her up, carrying her back to his already overflowing bed. “Did you have a bad dream?” he tried again. 

She shook her head. “Scarlett is being mean to me,” she said sleepily. 

Everyone in the room froze, exchanging concerned looks. “Sugar, remember what we talked about before the funeral? Scarlett’s not here anymore,” he said. She had probably just been dreaming. It was only logical for their sister to feature in Sugar’s subconscious so soon after her death. 

She nodded, and the movement of her hair tickled Law’s nose. “She won’t stop pulling my sheets off though,” she said. 

He frowned. “Viola-” 

“I’ll go check on Lami,” she said before he could finish, clearly thinking the same thing as him. “She’s probably just teasing you, Sugar. Just poking a little fun.” She kissed her forehead as she swept through the door. 

“It’s not very nice,” she mumbled, burying her face further into Law’s neck. 

“No, it’s not. Don’t worry though. You’re safe here, okay? You can sleep between Dellinger and the Triplets,” he replied as they all shuffled around to make room. 

A few minutes later, all five of the bed’s inhabitants were conked out. He and Bepo made a quick trip to the latter’s room to gather up more pillows and blankets to make a pile on the floor. They were just settling in when Viola returned with Lami- who was deep asleep when she found her, and had remained so while she carried her there. Lami was not the type to fall asleep quickly, so it was odd that she would be able to so soon after messing with Sugar. Still, Viola was adamant that the younger girl was asleep when she arrived, and evidence pointed to the fact that this was true. 

It was very odd, but stranger things had happened. And after all, what other explanation was there? It’s not like Scarlett had actually been in Sugar’s room, pulling off her sheets to scare her like she used to. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ayyyy guess who's starting a new au??? that's right- THIS BITCH!!!! It's amazing really. There I was, feeling immensely proud of myself for completing one of my other fics, hope shining in my eyes as I imagined a future where I wasn't working on so many ongoing fics at once, and what do I do??? I start another one, because i'm just that weak. 
> 
> This fic is actually based on a book that I just read AND LOVED (I blazed through that sucker in one day while I was at work) that just came out. It's called House of Salt and Sorrows and IT'S FUCKING SICK MY DUDES. I mean, I was on board as soon as my coworker told me it was a retelling of the 12 dancing princesses (an all time fav of mine- little me was always balls to the walls for the aesthetics of the fairy tale) but then I started reading and was like??? this book??? is really good??? and also has a delightfully creepy atmosphere to it??? EVEN BETTER. So anyways, it's heavily based on it, although some things will be a lil different- duh. I would like to add a little more of the original fairy tale to it, as much as I loved the book. And obvs I'm changing some one piece canon to suit my needs as well. You gotta do what you gotta do. 
> 
> Sorry Luffy's not here yet, but there are unfortunately, some things I had to establish first. He should show up next chapter tho. Which I might update relatively soon cuz I'm just really feeling this au, ya know??? But also don't expect all the chapters to be this long, this is very uncommon for me lol.


	2. Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Me: I don't write long chapters, and i take months to update  
Also me, _apparently_: *bangs out a chapter that's like 5 times as long as the ones I usually write in less than 2 weeks

The first thing Law noticed when he walked into the breakfast room the next morning was Baby 5’s dress. It was a beautiful shade of blue, like the clearest sky after a storm. She looked radiant in the morning light, but it only made his insides twist bitterly. 

“Good morning, Law!” she chirped. She was helping herself to a cranberry scone when he entered, and only paused to greet him before returning to her task. Highmoor kept a relaxed morning schedule where everyone was free to drift in and out of the dining room, serving themselves. Before she joined the family, Law was usually the only one up this early. It was usually because of insomnia, and last night was no exception. 

“….Morning,” he muttered back. If she hadn’t gotten sick of his lack of manners before, she could probably put up with it now. Besides, everyone knew that whether he got good sleep or not, he was never a morning person. 

He carefully sidled his way over to the table, choosing to sit at a reasonable distance, but not so far as to make it obvious he wanted nothing to do with her at the moment. It was a good thing too because a few seconds later his father waltzed into the dining room, and he would have been able to tell immediately if Law was being purposefully rude. 

“Good morning, my dear,” he greeted Baby 5, leaning over to give her a kiss. Law very studiously ignored them. Although he couldn’t help but note that his father was not wearing his usual black, but rather a sooty charcoal. He decided it was best to focus instead on picking something for breakfast that he’d be able to stomach. He wasn’t particularly hungry, but Sengoku was always insistent that he eat anyway. 

He held back his scoff when his father told her how wonderful she looked. 

“I think pregnancy agrees with me. Don’t you think so, Law?” she asked, positively beaming at him. Perhaps she was trying to be nice by including him in the conversation- she did seem oddly fixated on becoming his friend. 

He studied the turquoise folds of her gown, trying not to show his displeasure. She truly looked lovely, but it was definitely not something she ought to be wearing the day after her step-daughter’s funeral. He tried to point this out tactfully. “Are Scarlett’s dresses too small for you already?” 

He was skating on thin ice by his father’s expression, but Baby 5 paid it no mind. “Hmm? Oh yes, of course,” she said demurely, running a hand over her still flat stomach. She had been borrowing her mourning clothes from Scarlett and Viola before his sister’s untimely demise, sharing with the two of them since they had the most similar builds to her. Although it seemed now that she had full access to one of their closets, she deemed it unnecessary. 

“Actually, we have something important to discuss with everyone about that,” his father said. He shared a coy look with his wife before turning back to Law. “Would you mind gathering your siblings?” 

“What, right now?” he asked incredulously. The sun had barely risen, and dragging most of his siblings out of bed was like pulling nails. Someone would probably try to throw something at him. 

“Please?” 

His chair scraped the floor as he stood up, and he stormed away from the table, uncaring how impolite his father found it. If the old man didn’t like it, he could very well wake up everyone else himself instead of making goo-goo eyes at his wife. If he wanted Law to behave like a proper omega, he should have behaved like a proper father and worn black like he was supposed to. 

Once he had stomped upstairs and found himself in the hallway that led to his room, he took a deep breath. His morning may not have been going well, but that didn’t mean he should take it out on his siblings. It’s not like it was their fault the couple downstairs was practically spitting on Scarlett’s memory. 

He peered around the door, surprised to see that Viola was already awake and primping herself in front of Law’s mirror. 

“Done with breakfast already?” she asked, not turning away from the vanity. 

“Papa wants everyone downstairs. He has something to tell us.” 

Her hand hovered over a box of jewelry, brushing her fingers through strands of silver and gold, past shining sapphires and topazes to settle reluctantly on a jet-black earring. “Did he say what for?” 

He sighed, slouching onto the floor next to her. “No, but Baby 5’s light blue dress said enough. It hasn’t even been a week since Scarlett died, and she’s dressed like she’s welcoming the first day of spring. Even father is wearing gray now. It’s not right.” 

“I agree.” 

“Do you now?” he asked, eyeing the dangly ruby earrings she had immediately swapped out for the black one she held moments earlier. 

She huffed lightly, but there was a defensive aura about the way she straightened her back. “I’ll return them to you if that’s what you’re annoyed about,” she said. 

He straightened himself up as well. “You know damn well that I don’t give a shit about you borrowing jewelry after all these years. You could take the whole lot, and it would make little difference to me.” 

“Well, I don’t know what you’re so grumpy about then,” she snapped. 

He studied her in silence, both of them too stubborn to say anything for a minute. “You’re in quite a mood today. What’s this about?” he eventually asked. 

Now it was her turn to sigh. “I’ve been thinking about our future. None of us will ever get married if something doesn’t change around here. And I’m certainly not going to catch anyone’s eye while I’m covered head to toe in boring old black,” she sneered at her reflection. 

“That’s not true,” he protested. “Any dumb old alpha would be honored to have you as their wife- black or any other color besides. And think about Scarlett- she wore black for almost two years, and that never stopped people from pursuing her,” he pointed out. 

“Yes, but I’m not Scarlett,” she smirked. “It’s not like I don’t want to honor her memory. It’s just- I’ll never meet anybody if I’m stuck hiding in this house all the time. Especially if we have to go through every single mourning step every time someone dies. It’s been two years. I’m ready to move on. And no amount of scowling from you is going to change my mind.” 

He slumped down again. He wasn’t really upset with her. She deserved a chance at happiness- they all did. Of course his siblings wanted to be at court, to attend grand balls. They wanted to meet new people, make new friends, find spouses. He couldn’t begrudge them that, even if he wasn’t interested in the same. Maybe it would be like Rebecca suggested last night. Maybe they could mourn for just a little longer, and then they could enjoy life to the fullest. 

“You’re right,” he acceded. “Will you at least help me wake everyone else up? Father’s probably breaking out of his lovey-dovey daze by now and wondering what’s taking so long.” 

She smiled truly at him, and he felt something in him unclench a little. “Sure. Hand me that pillow next to your foot- I’m going to use it to wipe away those peaceful looks on their faces.” 

“You’re evil,” he smiled back, tossing it to her and delighting in the ensuing chaos. 

* * *

“Honestly, I send your brother with a simple task, yet it takes you all twenty minutes to arrive- still in your night clothes, I might add.” He gave Law a rather pointed look, but he just shrugged. 

Baby 5 merely hummed happily as she dished up plates of eggs and sausage for Sugar and Lami- the former of which was shooting her older sister disgruntled looks from time to time. Evidently, she was still a bit put out by last night’s pranking. Lami looked confused about it, but Law knew she was perfectly capable of playing innocent when it was convenient for her. 

The rest of them sat down but didn’t bother with the food. Sengoku obviously had something to announce, so they were going to wait for him to say it. 

“After breakfast there’s a wonderful surprise for you in the Gold Parlor,” he told them. 

The Gold Parlor was a small but formal room, used only for very important guests- like visitors from court of occasionally the High Mariner. The last time Law remembered it being used was when the king and queen came to visit from the mainland. The queen herself had used it as her sitting room. She complimented the velvet drapes, and after she left Scarlett had gone to said drapes and cut strips off of them to make special ribbons for everyone- much to Sengoku’s horror. 

“What’s the surprise?” Dellinger asked, practically bouncing in his seat. Patience was not his strong point, and he absolutely loved surprises. 

Sengoku smiled obligingly down at him. “After careful consideration, I’ve decided that our family has spent enough time in sadness. Highmoor has spent too long in darkness. I’m ending the mourning.” 

Several of his siblings let out excited titters at this, but Law couldn’t help but protest. “We buried Scarlett yesterday,” he reminded the table. “_ Yesterday _.” 

Someone kicked him under the table. He wasn’t sure who it was, but his money was on Penguin. 

Their father gave him a disapproving look. “I know this may seem premature, but-” 

“Very premature,” he cut in, and was met with another kick. This time he kicked back, and judging by the yelp, it was Shachi who was to blame. 

Sengoku pinched the bridge of his nose. “You have something you want to say, Law?” 

“How can you think of doing this so soon? Scarlett’s not even cold in her grave. It’s not right.” 

“We’ve spent too much of our lives mourning as it is. Now is the time for a new beginning. I don’t want our fresh start to be tainted by sorrow.” 

“Your fresh start. Yours and Baby 5’s. None of this would be happening if she wasn’t pregnant.” There was a sharp gasp around the table. Hurt flashed in Baby 5’s eyes, but he pressed on. This was too important for him to brush aside. 

“She says it’s an alpha, and you’re ready to do anything to please her. You’re willing to forget all about your first family. About the kids you’ve sent to the Brine. We’re just your cursed family,” he bit out. The words fell out black and ugly. It felt like he was spitting out mud. 

Sugar made a terrible noise. “I don’t want to die,” she sobbed, dropping her fork so it clattered noisily on the table. 

Bepo rushed to her side, wiping at her tears with a napkin. “You’re not going to die. We’re all fine. There’s no curse.” 

The armrests of his father’s chair creaked dangerously where his hands were gripped around them, knuckles white. “Law, you are out of line. Apologize immediately.” 

He stood up to kneel beside Sugar, hugging her and stroking her hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. There’s not really a curse. Like Bepo said- we’re all fine.” 

“I didn’t mean to Sugar.” His father’s voice was ice cold. 

He glared at him from over Sugar’s head, refusing to back down. Sengoku could do whatever he wanted- Law wasn’t going to take back what he said. He could lock him up in the crypt for all he cared. 

After an uncomfortable amount of time had passed, Shachi cleared his throat to gain their father’s attention. 

“You said there was something in the parlor?” 

Sengoku deflated, suddenly looking much more like a man of his age. “Yes. It was Baby 5’s idea actually. To celebrate the end of our mourning. We’ve brought in seamstresses and cobblers to design you new clothes. We thought it would be a special treat for your upcoming ball as well,” he said, looking at the Triplets. 

They squealed in delight, pushing over each other to race down the hallway to the Gold Parlor and shouting a chorus of thanks as they ran. The rest of Law’s siblings followed suit, although Bepo at least had the grace to thank the couple to their faces before walking quickly after the others. 

Law however, turned in the opposite direction and began marching back to his room. 

His father caught up to him in the hallway. “And where do you think you’re going?” 

“Well, I don’t need new clothes, so I’ll just leave you all to it.” 

“We are all coming out of mourning, and that includes you. I’ll not have you dressed in drab attire while the rest of us get on with our lives,” he said sternly. 

Law sucked in a harsh breath. “I’m sure Scarlett wishes she could get on with her life as well.” 

A thunderous look took over Sengoku’s face, and he grabbed Law by the arm to sit him on a nearby bench. The air filled suddenly with his father’s scent, heavy and metallic. “This behavior ends now. We are moving on.” 

He shook his head in disgust. “Move on all you want- I’m not stopping you. Leave me alone, and I’ll mourn my siblings the way I want to. You won’t have to bother with me at all.” The words left a sour taste in his mouth, and he was extra thankful he hadn’t eaten anything that morning. 

“No one can move on if you’re wandering about the house draped in black, never letting them forget!” 

“Then lock me in my room, so no one will have to see me! You can drape a black curtain over my door and ignore me the way you do for Scarlett, Jean Bart, and Monet!” he said, throwing his hands up in exasperation. 

“_ You think I don’t miss them _? You think it brings me joy to think of all the family I’ve had to return to the Salt? I miss them every day, Law. Scarlett, Jean Bart, Monet… Even Rocinante-” 

“_ DON’T SAY HIS NAME _!” he bellowed, jumping to his feet. He was grateful that none of his siblings were here to listen to them argue. It was true that Law was often moody, but it was rare that he was truly angry. Right now it took everything to keep his hands from trembling with rage. If there was one thing his family knew never to bring up with him, it was Cora. 

It didn’t matter that he died ten years ago, or that Law had only known him for a scant few months. Cora had been like a father to him- he’d saved him and Lami from meeting the same sad end as their birth parents, although Lami was just a baby and recalled none of this. It was because of Cora that Sengoku took them in in the first place, opening up his empty home to a pair of sick little orphans. Despite being like a father to Law, Cora had also been like a son to Sengoku- of course Law knew that the third father figure in his life still missed the second one. 

But this was not supposed to be an argument about Cora. 

It felt like he was suffocating- he took great heaving breaths, but it was like none of it was reaching his lungs. What little air he did take in felt like it was scorching his throat. Darkness creeped in at the edges of his vision, and the smell of stale wood filled his nostrils. It was cold and dark, and he clutched a squalling Lami to his chest as he screamed and screamed and screamed until his voice went hoarse. And through it all he heard sharp, biting laughter ringing through his ears that chilled him straight down to his bones. 

“-aw. Can you hear me? I need you to focus in on my voice. Breathe, slowly now. Yes- just like that. Breathe. It’s alright. I’m here. You’re safe._ You’re safe _.” 

He blinked blearily past the haze that settled over him, dimly aware that he was sitting back on the bench. Sengoku was kneeling in front of him, a look of utmost concern on his face. The metallic scent of iron was gone, replaced with soothing sandalwood. 

It had been a long time since he’d had an attack like that. He’d been doing so well. 

“I don’t want to fight,” Sengoku sighed, standing up only so he could sink on the bench next to him. “I understand how poorly you must think of me right now, but I swear to you that this is not about Baby 5 having an alpha. I don’t care what they think up on the mainland about it- secondary gender has nothing to do with worthiness,” he said sternly. Law knew he was telling the truth- mainly because he’d expressed the sentiment multiple times over the years at the slightest drop of a hat. He didn’t know why he said what he did earlier. He’d known even then that it wasn’t true, yet he hadn’t been able to hold it back. Sometimes ugly things take root inside you without you even realizing it. 

“I may not be your birth father Law, but all of you are my children nonetheless- and I love you all the more for it. My fondest memories are with you all- from watching Lami take her first steps to chasing the Triplets through the garden to listening as Monet explained why lighting the curtains in Jean Bart’s room on fire was necessary. 

“I’ve always been so proud of all of you. Your happiness is what I cherish most in the world. When I took each of you in, I never knew exactly what to do, what I could offer. But I knew that at the very least, I could welcome you all into a loving home that was full of sunlight and life. And I realized last night- that same sort of offer was something I had to make for the new life coming our way,” he admitted almost timidly. 

Sengoku was a proud man. Timid was not something anyone ever described him as. But there he was. Wringing his hands in his lap while he stared resolutely at the floor. While Law sat there feeling like a massive asshole. 

He shouldn’t have been so harsh. It was terribly unfair of him. Hadn’t he just been speaking with Viola about the same topic earlier that morning? How long ago that conversation felt now… 

He coughed lightly to snap his father out of his slouch. “I don’t suppose these seamstresses brought any light gray silk with them?” 

His father gave him a weak smile. “He always thought you’d look very fetching in yellow.” 

“Yeah, well, he also looked like a disaster, so his opinions on fashion don’t count.” He got a real laugh for that one. 

* * *

The Gold Parlor was a mess of fabric and trimmings. Crates were everywhere, spilling out armloads of tulle and silk and chiffon. Ribbon and lace covered every surface, and he nearly faceplanted into a mound of organza after tripping over a box of buttons. 

“Oh Law, look! Isn’t this the most beautiful shade of pink you’ve ever seen?” Rebecca asked dreamily as she held a swathe of rose gold fabric high over her head. She and the rest of the Triplets were having the time of their lives inspecting everything they could get their hands on. 

“It’s very nice,” he told her honestly. He wasn’t very fond of pink, but he did think she’d look quite nice in the color. It would match her hair well, and did have a certain whimsical air about it. 

He received a blinding smile in return for his plain compliment, and she turned around to speak with the dressmakers about what styles the fabric could be made into. Law himself had already agreed to a few garments in varying shades of blue. They were all darker hues, but Sengoku wouldn’t protest as long as they were not dark enough to be mistaken for black. The one exception had been a midnight blue tunic that Viola commissioned for him- although that was all he was allowed to hear of the conversation. 

“You’ll be stunning. Even the prickliest alphas won’t be able to resist getting closer to you,” she said. He immediately decided he didn’t want it made under any circumstances, but she and Bepo ganged up so that she could order it for him while Bepo held him back. She and the head seamstress whispered furiously in one corner, stealing glances back in his direction every once in a while, as if to take notes. 

Some of the others watched him struggle in his brother’s arms- when did Bepo get to be so damn strong? Law was older, damn it! They all unanimously elected to ignore him and continue on as if nothing was happening. 

Sengoku had walked in on the scene, taken one look, and promptly decided to ignore him as well. Traitor. 

“What do you think of this one, Captain?” Shachi asked once Law had finally resigned himself to his fate. He was clearly trying to butter him up by using the nickname. When they were younger all the boys had taken to playing pirates, but since Jean Bart refused to be the captain, the title went to Law as he was second oldest of them. His brothers liked to call him that whenever they wanted him to be particularly agreeable. 

It totally didn’t work on him. Nope. Of course not, because he was not that easily manipulated. 

He ran his hand carefully over the smooth bronze satin and held back a sigh. “It’s nice,” he said, “but wouldn’t you like to wear something a little more colorful?” 

Shachi bit his lip and peered up at him uncertainly. “You won’t mind? I mean, you don’t think it’s too soon to be wearing bright colors?” 

Law felt his insides twist painfully at the hesitant look on his face. “No. No I don’t. But what matters is what _ you _ think, not me. Why don’t you go check over there- there are some nice greens I think you’d be interested in,” he said gently, pointing him to the section where Viola and the seamstress were still talking. 

Shachi practically broke his ribs with the hug he gave him before he whirled away, leaving Law standing there with the shimmering fabric in his hands. 

He patently disregarded the knowing look Bepo shot his way. 

After that, the rest of his siblings seemed insistent on getting his opinion on whatever they looked at. Penguin wanted to know what color he ought to wear to match Rebecca and Shachi while still looking good on his own, Dellinger prodded him insistently about what cut of jacket he should order, Lami had him choose between six different shades of yellow, and even Sugar spent a good fifteen minutes dumping handfuls of ribbons in his lap to help her. He wasn’t sure why they bothered- he was hardly the last word in fashion statements. According to Viola, it was because he was very blunt and straightforward with his opinions- which his many indecisive siblings needed. 

Baby 5 even asked him what colors she should look at. She approached cautiously, but since he didn’t act any colder to her than his siblings, she brightened up immediately. Apparently she wasn’t that put out by what happened earlier that day- which was good news to Law and everyone else. 

The last thing they chose were their shoes. They had spent so long in mourning, none of them had any for dancing. One was not allowed to dance when they were in mourning. Viola was ecstatic, as she was by far the best dancer out of all of them. A brilliant flamenco dancer, she was sure to spend the night enthralling anyone who looked her way- although she might be too busy enjoying herself to actually look for a partner to join her. 

The rest of them… Well, some of them were alright. Rebecca had enough grace that she would be fine, and Bepo only suffered from mild nerves. Shachi and Penguin were clumsy at the best of times, and Dellinger was a bit forceful in his movements, but they could practice before then. Law was….passable. Generally speaking though, he tended to avoid dancing as much as he could. The few times he did was either because Sengoku made him or because his siblings dragged him into it. 

And a few memorable times with his childhood friend, but that was mainly because he and Eustass spent most of their dances attempting to discreetly stomp on each other’s toes. 

Eustass was Tsuru’s son- she adopted him around the same time Sengoku got Law and Lami. Being the same age, and both being rather stubborn and unrepentant, they got along swimmingly…. After they spent the first few weeks trying to beat each other black and blue. But after that first little hiccup when it became apparent that they weren’t getting rid of each other that easily, they really did become friends. 

They were just very argumentative friends. Much like Scarlett and Kyros had been. Although unlike his older sister and the fisherman, their relationship involved more physical fighting. There were a good many people who would never condone raising a hand against an omega, but fortunately for Law, Eustass was not one of them. It was all very good to speak about protecting omegas and whatnot, but it was quite useless when said omega wanted to learn how to fight, and was also sick of being treated like glass. 

He hadn’t seen Eustass in over two years, since he went off to apprentice under the Keeper of the Light- a wizened little old man named Hyogoro that kept the lighthouse up and running on one of the neighboring islands. 

Law had been intensely jealous at the time. He’d dreamed of becoming the lighthouse keeper for years, but his father named Eustass as the apprentice instead. He said it would be good for him- which basically meant that he thought it would be good to get his friend out of everyone’s hair and disturbing the peace significantly less. Now that he was a little older, he couldn’t exactly argue with the logic of that. Eustass did have a way of making as much trouble as possible when he was around. 

Still, it would be nice to see him again someday. Law had always been notoriously bad at making friends, and that certainly hadn’t improved with the whole of the North Blue Islands spreading rumors about his family being cursed. 

He was determined not to think about that though, focusing instead on the elated looks on his brothers and sisters’ faces as they ordered new shoes. Sugar was especially endearing, having grabbed a pair of purple satin slippers that sparkled with small beads at the toes and declared them “fairy slippers”. 

She tried valiantly to get everyone else to order similar pairs, but Bepo kindly pointed out that Viola wouldn’t be able to dance properly in them if she got them. And if Viola didn’t have to wear the same style of shoe, then there wasn’t much point in making the rest of them. She got over it pretty quickly once Penguin told her it would make her stand out more. 

That didn’t keep her from pouting when she found out Law had only ordered plain navy ballroom shoes. She threw a right fit about that. 

* * *

One morning found Law rowing into the marina at Spider Miles right as the sun rose to bathe the docks in an explosion of pink and orange that reflected off the waves. 

The North Blue Islands consisted of five islands that spread across the sea like the jewels of a necklace. Spider Miles was the farthest to the north and was home to most of the seafaring folk like sailors, captains, fishmongers, and even the occasional reformed pirate. Needless to say, its main trade was its seafood market, with fresh wares arriving daily. 

Lvneel came next in line, and it was the most heavily populated. It was a glittering city of commerce and riches with shops of every kind crammed along its streets. His siblings had spent most of their time there the past few days, snatching up anything that caught their eye. Baby 5 convinced their father that all the exorbitant spending was necessary for the upcoming ball, although truth be told she didn’t really need to come up with excuses. Sengoku may have been a frugal man himself, but he’d always been a pushover when it came to doting on his children. 

Their family lived in the middle of the chain, on Swallow Island. 

Rubeck Island was long and thin, with ports on either end. It basically served as a massive shipyard that covered the whole island, and most of the King’s naval fleet had been built there. His father had once heard the King boast that his finest ships came from Rubeck, and he’d beamed for weeks about it. As overseer of the shipyard, he took great pride in it. 

Notice was the final and smallest island, but it had the most important duty. It was one of the most pivotal defense posts in the kingdom, and the lighthouse- affectionately dubbed Udon, after Hyogoro’s favorite food- stood taller than any other in the country. Assisting ships that came in and out of port was its main function, but it was also an excellent vantage point for spotting enemy ships. 

The Keeper of the Light had lived there since he was a child, growing up under the tutelage of his father who had held the post before them. As the years passed and it became apparent that Hyogoro wasn’t going to be having any children himself, Sengoku realized he’d have to assign the man an apprentice. Law had begged his father to choose him, but in the end he sent Eustass instead. He’d been a fisherman at the time, but Sengoku said he was destined for greater things. It wasn’t the only reason of course, but it was the official reason he gave out. 

Law didn’t speak to his father for a week afterwards, until the man admitted privately that he thought Eustass would benefit from having Hyogoro boss him into shaping up from his uncouth behavior. Also, he’d been a bit selfish when he chose, not wanting to send his son somewhere he wouldn’t see him often. 

Law forgave him after that, but he still had to contend with some less than enthusiastic attitudes from his other children. The Triplets and Dellinger had all been distraught because they’d all been harboring not-so-secret crushes on him. Law had hidden his little crush on the other boy a smidge better, and at the very least, he hadn’t followed Eustass around and hung off his every word like a lovesick puppy. Granted, he didn’t have to actively try to follow Eustass anywhere since they were best friends and always hung around each other anyway. 

Still, a little part of him had always expected to end up with Eustass. For one, he was the only non-family alpha he could stand to be around. For another, they used to spend all their time together. When he first left, Law had entertained briefly the idea of marrying Eustass. That way, he’d get hitched like everyone said he was supposed to, while also taking care of the lighthouse. 

The dream had quickly evaporated with Monet’s sickness, as he became far more concerned with her health than any silly fantasy. 

That was all it was anyway- a fantasy. Law was never going to get married because even if he was interested, everyone was too afraid they’d become cursed. And he wasn’t going to marry Eustass because his dumb little crush had been smothered years ago. The two of them didn’t even write to each other. If they met up now they would be strangers. At best, they’d probably try to kill each other once they realized how much they annoyed each other. 

He didn’t have time to bother with any of that nonsense anyway. 

Baby 5 had mentioned at the wake that the first time she tried to tell his father about the baby she’d been interrupted by the fishermen bringing Scarlett’s body home. Perhaps they had seen something, a small detail they’d forgotten to tell because they thought her death had been an accident. 

He knew he ought to turn back- that he probably shouldn’t have come at all- but there was something about Scarlett’s death that just didn’t sit right with him. Why would his sister who was afraid of heights, and who had grown up knowing the dangers of the cliffs, be walking around them in the dead of night? Why had she not woken anyone to tell them where she was going? She’d always been of the firm belief that if you were going anywhere you ought to tell someone before you left in case anything happened to you. 

And yet that was exactly what had happened to her. She’d told no one her whereabouts, and the next thing they knew her body was delivered to them in someone else’s cloak. 

It was all so wrong. He unthinkingly asked her spirit in the mausoleum if she’d been pushed, but it had seemed such an absurd idea at the time that he brushed it off. Now he wasn’t so sure. Nothing was making sense anymore. But if he could just speak to whoever found her body on the rocks, then maybe the picture would become clearer. 

He went through several failed attempts to ask the dockhands if they knew anyone who had discovered a body near Swallow Island, but most of them refused to talk to him since it was “bad luck to let an omega near the ships”. He wanted to grab them by their collars and toss them into the sea, but he doubted it would help his case. It would make him feel better though. 

Eventually, he came across one that was willing to speak to him for a few moments while he was on a smoke break. 

“The Duke’s girl? The one that was always arguing with that big alpha?” he asked. 

Law nodded eagerly, relieved to finally find someone who could give him information. Disappointment hit sharp and heavy when the man said the fisherman who found her was out for the next few days at least. Apparently he was trying to get one last big catch in before the weather got too cold. 

He almost left with that, but thankfully the dockhand’s companion had overheard the conversation and said that an old netter had also been there that day. He said he was somewhere along the docks, and Law would find him easy enough. 

And find him he did, although he almost considered not talking to the old man once he saw him. 

He was three piers down, surrounded by thick coils of indigo cording that he was swiftly and deftly hooking around a curved needle to knot the nets together. He also looked like he had died some time ago, and that someone had resurrected him so he could complete his endless task of creating nets. His skin was sallow, his jaw seemed to take up the majority of his face, and one of his eyes was scarred over- although that was nothing compared to the long winding scar across his emaciated chest. If he wasn’t clearly moving around, Law would have thought assumed on appearance alone that he was dead. 

He stepped tentatively forward. “Excuse me? It’s Spoil, isn’t it?” 

The old man turned to look at him with his good eye, looking him over before beaming at him. “That’s me. Now, what does a young omega like yourself want with an old netter like me, hmm?” 

His friendly response was so unexpected, Law was taken aback for a moment. “Oh. Um, I heard that you were one of the people to find Sengoku’s daughter the other day,” he said, hoping fervently that he didn’t recognize Law as one of Sengoku’s other children. He really didn’t want to deal with that today. 

“Aye, terrible day that was. Poor girl should have had her whole life ahead of her,” he said, shaking his head morosely. 

“Did you see anything unusual about her body?” he asked abruptly. He didn’t want to think about all that Scarlett had lost. 

Spoil gave him another appraising look. “Unusual? It’s not very usual to see pretty young girls falling from cliffs, is it? That what you mean?” 

“So you think it was an accident?” 

“Well, what else would it be? She wouldn’t have jumped- we saw the locket.” 

“Locket? What Locket?” He’d never seen Scarlett with a locket a day in her life. 

He nodded sagely. “That’s right. The chain was unsalvageable, but we could make out the inscription just fine.” Law didn’t get the chance to inquire more about it before the old man suddenly grabbed his hand desperately. For looking half dead, he sure had a strong grip, and Law almost cried out in surprise and pain at the way his bony fingers dug into his skin. 

There was a wild look in his eye that made Law’s heart stop cold. “Something’s coming.” His voice, which had been calm and kindly one moment, now rasped out like his throat was made of sandpaper. 

Law looked around at the rest of the docks. Nothing had changed. It was merely filled with the hustle and bustle of workers trying to get their jobs done. 

“I don’t see anything.” 

The grip on his hand tightened, making him wince. “Can’t you feel it? It’s in the air, all around us.” 

“What?” 

“The sky. The sky is going dark. The stars are falling,” he said, voice warbling and hand trembling. 

Law looked up, but nothing had changed there either. The day was full upon them, the sky bright and blue, and not a single star was visible. He wondered if Spoil was quite alright in the head. Maybe that scar on his forehead was evidence of a serious brain injury. 

“What about the locket. The one that you found with Scarlett?” he asked, trying to get back on task. He thought back to the horrible necklace she’d been wearing in her coffin. Was that the locket? He’d never seen her wear it before… And of course, he couldn’t check now. They sent her body out to sea over two weeks ago. 

Spoil blinked up at him. “The locket? Oh yes, that. Yes, we read the inscription together- brought a tear to both our eyes.” He cleared his throat and looked upward thoughtfully as if trying to recall a poem. 

_ “‘I dwelt alone _

_ In a world of moan, _

_ And my soul was a stagnant tide, _

_ Till the fair and gentle Scarlett became my blushing bride. _’” 

His jaw dropped. “Bride? Scarlett wasn’t a bride. She wasn’t even courting anyone!” 

“That’s what it said, lad. I’m only telling you what I saw. You ought to head on home now, before the tides become too turbulent,” he said patiently. Law had never told him that he wasn’t from Spider Miles, but he supposed it must be obvious to someone who did live there. He was still glancing around furtively, as if he expected something to burst forth from the nonexistent shadows. 

Law left him to his netting, more confused than he was before he came. 

Scarlett as a bride? How? When? Was that why she was out there that night? Was it a meeting with her secret lover gone wrong? 

He was so caught up in his whirlwind of thoughts, he didn’t notice the figure that came hurtling his way until they had smashed into him, knocking him to the ground. 

“Oh! I didn’t see you there! My bad!” someone laughed brightly above him. He looked up, but their face was obscured due to the rising sun that was right behind them- it outlined the figure in a brilliant corona that left spots in his eyes. Spots that remind him of the stars the old man was whispering about. 

He only had a split second to register what happened before the stranger had grabbed him by the arm and hauled him to his feet effortlessly. 

Law was surprised to find that the boy was shorter than him. Although clearly, he was not lacking in strength. Despite his smaller frame, he could tell that he was packed with muscle. There was a crescent shaped scar beneath his left eye- and speaking of his eyes, they were like chips of obsidian, shining in the sunlight. He’d never thought of black being a warm color before, but he certainly was now. He was wearing, oddly enough, a straw hat on a string around his neck. 

“You’re alright, aren’t you? Didn’t hit you too hard, huh?” he asked, poking Law none too gently on the cheek. 

Law felt his face heat up, swatting the hand away. “I’m fine, and I thank you to keep your hands to yourself,” he snapped. Who the hell did this guy think he was? Who ran into people and poked them in the face? 

He only laughed again, the sound clear and unabashed. “Sorry, sorry! I was just checking! Your spots are cool though!” he said. 

That only made Law’s eye twitch. His “spots” were pale patches across his skin that he had acquired during his stint with the white plague. He may have been one of the fortunate few to survive- the only other being Lami- but he would carry the mark of it forever. He did not like it when people pointed the marks out either. 

He stormed away from the man, ignoring his further apologies. He was going back to his boat, and he was going home, and getting as far away from the rude little stranger as he could. 

“Hey, wait!” he cried, grabbing Law’s arm and tugging him around. He staggered at the force, once again annoyed at the other’s unexpected strength. He shot him a withering glare, but it had no effect on the boy who was still smiling at him like a loon. 

“Don’t leave! We just met! I’m Monkey D. Luffy- what’s your name?” 

Law almost answered out of habit, but it was that moment that the rest of the marina took actual notice of who he was. In his haste to find the old man, he hadn’t realized how close to the marketplace they were. Although most of the people were polite enough not to grab their metaphorical pitchforks immediately, he could still hear their whispered accusations in the crisp morning air. 

“What is _ he _doing here?” 

“-hasn’t even been a month-” 

“-cursed-” 

He didn’t want to hear any more. He couldn’t- this whole trip was a bad idea. He should have at least tried to cover up his white patches with some of Viola’s makeup or something. 

“What’s he wearing? It’s not even gray…” 

“-I don’t want him around!” 

“He shouldn’t be here! He’ll spread their misfortune to us!” 

That was his cue to leave. They were starting to get antsy now, and while Law didn’t think they’d resort to violence, he didn’t want to wait around to find out. Whether or not his family was actually cursed, it did not bode well for him to stay any longer than he already had. 

He made to leave but forgot with all the whispers that his arm was in a vice like grip. “_ Let go _,” he hissed. 

Luffy blinked up at him. “But you haven’t told me your name.” 

“Get someone else to tell you!” And with as much force as he could muster, he twisted himself out of Luffy’s grasp and ran. He thanked the gods that no one tried to stop him this time. 

He didn’t stop running until he reached his dinghy, even though the side of the marina he tied it was still quiet. He untied it quickly, cast a quick look around before deducing that nobody had followed him, and pushed off the docks. What would have been a peaceful morning was ruined by his stupid “curse”. 

Well, okay, that plus that weird little blip in his conversation with Spoil when he was under the impression that the sky was falling. 

Speaking of that conversation though…. 

If there was one good thing that came out of the trip, it was that he now had new information about Scarlett’s death. His mind flashed back to the image of that necklace around her neck, and how unlike her it felt. 

What had that inscription meant? Scarlett, a blushing bride? She had plenty of suitors, but none of them had ever _ proposed _. Had they? 

But then, why would she not have told them? 

Frowning, he rowed with more vigor than was strictly necessary. 

The only reason she wouldn’t have told them she got engaged was because it was someone their father didn’t approve of. Or perhaps, someone that _ she _ didn’t approve of. 

His imagination pounced then, conjuring up what her last fateful night might have been like. She must have met up with her would-be suitor, rebuffing his advances, telling them they could never be together. They quarreled, and tempers rose to a feverish pitch until the suitor pushed her from the cliffs. Had they thrown the locket after her to erase the evidence of their unrequited desire? 

He pictured her falling through the air, the look of confusion on her face turning to horror when she realized there was no escaping her gruesome demise. No way to turn back the clock and make things right. Had she screamed before smashing into the rocks? 

There was no telling if there was any truth in the images his wild imagination had painted, but he felt like he was on the right path. 

His sister’s death had not been an accident. And it had not been part of some dark curse that struck Sengoku’s line. 

She was murdered. 

And he was going to prove it. 

* * *

His fingers were curved around the handle of Scarlett’s desk drawer when he heard the floorboards creak in the hallway. His heart leapt up into his throat, and he was sure that he was about to be caught. It’s not like there was any rule against being in their departed siblings’ rooms, but he didn’t want anyone asking about what he was doing. If he told them right now that Scarlett had been murdered, they would just call him paranoid and blame it on his nerves or something. This theory was something that had to be backed up by evidence. Hence, rooting through his sister’s things. 

When no one came barging into the room and demanded to know what he was doing, he tiptoed to the door and peeked carefully out into the hallway. 

It was empty. 

Heaving a quiet sigh of relief, he closed the door carefully and continued his search of Scarlett’s room. 

Once he returned from Spider Miles, it was to find a nearly empty house. The Triplets and Dellinger had gone to Lvneel with Baby 5 again, while Lami and Sugar were still at their lessons with their governess. Bepo and Viola were in the ballroom, practicing for the Triplet’s big night. The rhythmic thumping of Viola’s feet on the marble floor reminded him of kinder times, when Scarlett used to practice with her. 

When she was alive, her room had always felt like a haven of sorts. It was full of light, and covered in her things. Books would be splayed out along her desk, paper and ink littered beside it, and clothes thrown haphazardly on the floor. 

In death, it was the opposite. Everything was neat and pristine, all her clothes tucked away, and her books and writing supplies stacked carefully on one end of her desk. 

Law almost wanted to take them and chuck them on the floor, just so it looked like someone had been in there. That would, naturally, defeat the purpose of his actual visit, but it felt so wrong to be in Scarlett’s room and have it look so unlived in. 

He turned about the room, trying to think of what he could be missing. His eyes fell upon a pedestal near the window. A sad, withered fern sat upon it, but it was of little consequence to him. No, what mattered about this pedestal was that once, Monet had told him it had a secret compartment that Scarlett kept her most precious treasures in. 

It took several minutes of prodding, but eventually he found a small lever that revealed the pedestal’s secrets. There was a small stack of books at the top, which he first took to be diaries- perhaps leading up to the day she died- but flipping to the first pages revealed that they were actually novels their father had forbidden them to read. He said they were too graphic for the finer people of their society. He almost laughed, feeling an odd swell of pride for Scarlett keeping them anyway. 

Below those was an assortment of ribbons, lace, and jewelry. He recognized a dried flower crown that Rebecca had made her years ago. There was also a small pocket watch, nestled inside a plain white handkerchief that had yellowed somewhat with age. The watch and the handkerchief were both devoid of decoration, and of poorer make than anything Scarlett would have normally owned. Not at all her style. 

He opened the watch and fumbled with the lock of hair that fell out- it was wrapped in a tiny piece of copper wire, and was dark and curly. He would have thought it Viola’s if not for the way he found it, and also because it looked a bit browner around the edges when he held it to the light. Viola’s hair was so black that it shone almost blue. Still, it looked familiar…. 

“What are you doing?” 

His heart was going to give out at this rate, he thought to himself, dropping the handkerchief in his surprise. He snapped his head to the doorway where Lami stood, sketchbook in her pastel covered hands. 

He breathed out a sigh of relief, grateful that it wasn’t Sengoku that found him. 

“Nothing. Aren’t you supposed to be at lessons still?” 

She shrugged. “Makino wasn’t feeling well, so we stopped early. Sugar is helping the cook make petit fours for the ball. I was going to see if Rebecca would sit for a portrait.” 

“They went out with Baby 5. Final fittings for their clothes,” he said, shifting a bit to close the pedestal’s door without Lami noticing. 

She pursed her lips. “I don’t think Scarlett will like you going in there.” 

“She’s not here anymore,” he replied a touch sharply. 

She stared at him with her big doe eyes. 

“Why don’t you go see if Cook needs any more help?” he suggested. “I bet she’ll give you something tasty in return.” 

“Did you come in here to borrow something?” 

“Not exactly.” 

She tipped her head to the side. “Did you come in here to cry?” 

“Excuse me?” 

She shrugged again. “Papa does sometimes. In Monet’s. He thinks no one knows about it, but I hear him at night,” she said as if she were talking about the weather. 

Monet’s room was on the fourth floor, directly above Lami’s. 

She leaned partway into the room, beckoning him closer. He left the handkerchief on the floor, hoping she wouldn’t see it. “I won’t tell if you are.” 

“I’m not crying,” he said, crouching down so he wouldn’t tower over her. 

She traced a hand down his cheek, smiling forlornly. “I know you aren’t. But I think you should cry more often. Even when you don’t shed any tears, your eyes look so sad. Scarlett always says you should never hold back your sadness, because that’s when it overtakes you.” 

“She would have.” 

“I still miss her,” she whispered, leaning in to bury her face in his neck. 

“Of course you do. It’s only natural.” 

“But no one else does besides Sugar. No one else remembers her anymore. All they talk about is the ball.” 

He hugged her tightly. “We haven’t forgotten her. We need to move on, but that doesn’t mean we don’t miss and love her.” 

“She doesn’t think so.” 

He pulled away to look her in the eye. “What do you mean?” 

“She thinks everyone is too busy with their lives to remember her.” She glanced back to the hallway as if she was afraid someone was listening in on them. “Jean Bart does too. He says no one has been taking care of the gardens like he wanted.” 

Her words sent a sudden pang through his chest- he had forgotten about the gardens. They all had. It had been Monet’s favorite place, and Jean Bart had spent most of his days there after she died. He had been the one looking after it since he was fourteen. When he passed, they hadn’t bothered to hire anyone else to care for it. It seemed trivial at the time, particularly when Law was the only other person who visited regularly, and he swore off it as soon as they found his brother’s body. 

“Lami, why are you talking like they’re still here?” 

She blinked at him before silently holding out her sketchbook as if it would explain everything. Before he could take it, the Triplets came racing down the hallway. Their arms were full of boxes, labeled with names from Lvneel shops that he recognized. 

“Oh good! You’re both here!” Shachi said, struggling to throw open their door across the hall. “We all need to go downstairs right now!” 

“Why?” Lami asked, shoulders tensing up. “Did someone else die?” 

Law winced. What other ten-year-old worried that an announcement meant someone died? 

“What? No!” Penguin said, dumping his hoard unceremoniously at the foot of their bed. “The fairy shoes are here! We stopped by the cobbler’s shop, and he was just finishing up!” They had all taken to calling them fairy shoes, regardless of their design- it made Sugar beam with pride. 

Lami’s eyes sparkled, sketchbook and whatever secrets it contained instantly forgotten. “They’re here?” 

“Come and see!” Rebecca said gleefully, tearing back down the hallway with Penguin and Shachi hot on her heels. 

Law got to his feet, brushing off his knees. “We should go.” 

“Don’t forget Scarlett’s handkerchief!” Lami chirped, skipping down the hallway without waiting for him. 

He froze for a split second before turning back to snatch it up. When he left, the door slammed shut behind him, as if pushed by unseen hands. 

* * *

“Let me see! Let me see!” 

“Calm down, Penguin! We have to wait for Papa to get here! He said he had something else to tell us!” Rebecca said, shoving him away from the boxes stacked carefully on the floor. Sengoku was fetching Viola and Bepo since none of the Triplets had thought of it. They had all raced down to the Gold Parlor without a second thought. 

The Triplets continued their squabbling while Law took a seat next to Baby 5. She smiled sunnily at him, offering him a treat from the tray of baked goods the Cook had given to them. He took a macaron and gave her a slight smile in return. Sugar tugged at his sleeve, peering up longingly at the tray and pointing at a circular piece of cake that was covered in pink icing and decorated to look like a present. He picked it off the tray and handed it to her, smiling wider at the gleeful squeal she gave. 

A sudden rush towards the entryway caught his attention, as the Triplets abandoned their post besides the shoe boxes. Their father had arrived. 

“Alright then, let’s take a look at these fairy shoes, shall we?” he asked, winking at Sugar as she clung to his knees. Bepo had to pick her up so that Sengoku could sit down. 

There were gasps and exclamations of appreciation with every box that he opened. Viola had naturally ordered flamenco shoes, with five-inch heels that were painted with swirling violets. They were a dark eggplant color, and the look of unabashed excitement in her eyes was enough to make everyone smile. 

The Triplets had all gotten ballet slippers- although Rebecca was the only one to order pointe shoes, seeing as she was the only one of them that could actually dance en pointe. They were in varying colors to match each one of them: Rebecca’s in the traditional light pink, Shachi’s in pale seafoam green, and Penguin’s in a baby blue. They were all dusted with glitter on the toes, and barely waited for Sengoku to hand them to them to try on. 

Dellinger’s slippers were pine green, and had mini fighting fish faces embroidered on them. 

Sugar and Lami both got their fairy slippers. Sugar’s were a bright red, with tiny rubies at the tips and even had small satin roses sewn into them to match the ones that she asked the dressmakers to trim her gown with. Lami’s on the flip side, were a lemon yellow, with gold ribbons sewn around the top to form a glittering bow at the front. 

Bepo’s were simple ballroom shoes like Law’s, in a cream hue that would go well with the apricot colored tunic he’d ordered. They were simple, but he was obviously pleased despite this. If he’d gotten something gaudy, he probably would have spent the whole night worrying about ruining them. 

Baby 5 had ordered a pair of flats, but they were a lurid gold that made it hard for Law to look at. He saw Viola sneer at them, but the look of adoration she and his father shared was enough to keep Law from doing the same. 

That left Law. His father opened the final box and gave a pleased look before handing them over to him. There was a brief spark of _ something _in his eyes, but Law didn’t know what. He accepted the box somewhat reluctantly. All he had ordered was plain navy shoes. That shouldn’t have warranted any sort of special look. He peered cautiously inside. 

And stopped. 

Tentatively, he pulled out one of the shoes. It was navy blue, like he requested, polished so that it shined. Unlike he requested, it also had miniscule pieces of mother of pearl embedded into them. They twinkled in the light like stars against the night sky. 

He squinted suspiciously over the shoe at Viola. “You talked to the cobbler.” It was a statement, not a question. 

She tossed her hair back imperiously. “Of course I did. I couldn’t let you go with plain old shoes when I worked so hard to make everything else in your outfit perfect.” 

“You didn’t do anything about Bepo.” 

“You and I both know he’d send the night hyperventilating in the corner if I did.” 

“Oh, Law! They’re gorgeous!” Baby 5 exclaimed, breaking up their little stand-off. “Why, everyone’s shoes are so beautiful, everyone will be rushing to dance with our children! You’ll all be dancing out of the house before we know it!” 

Viola stiffened. “Out of the house? What do you mean?” 

Baby 5 blinked. “Only that you’ll be off and married, running your own households. Just like me,” she replied, not sensing the tense atmosphere her words brought. 

Sengoku frowned. 

“_ This _is my household,” Viola bit out. The scent of eucalyptus became overpowering, and Law saw Lami and Sugar cover their noses as they hid behind Bepo. 

“Until you’re married,” Baby 5 filled in. At his sister’s stony face, her smile began to wane. “Isn’t that right, Dear?” she asked, looking over to her husband for clarification. 

He looked distinctly uncomfortable with the situation. “As the heir, Viola will stay at Highmoor, even once she’s married. I know it’s a nasty business to think of- especially now that we’ve decided to move out of mourning- but when I die, she inherits the estate.” 

Baby 5 tugged at one of her earrings. “Only until…” she trailed off, holding her stomach as her face grew redder. “Surely, you all would like to be somewhere else?” 

Lami and Sugar both stood to leave, clinging to Bepo’s hands, but Viola stopped them. 

“This concerns them too,” she said, shooting their father a hard look. “We should all stay to hear it.” 

He sighed, turning to his wife and holding her hand, trying to make the conversation seem more intimate instead of the indictment it began to feel like. “You thought any alphas we might have would inherit Highmoor?” 

She nodded. “That’s common practice,” she said, eyes flitting about the room. 

“It works that way on the mainland,” he explained. “But on the islands, estates are passed to the eldest child regardless of gender. Many strong and capable omegas and betas have ruled over Highmoor. My grandmother inherited the estate when her father passed away, and she doubled the shipyard at Rubeck and tripled the profits.” 

Baby 5’s lips pressed into a tight line, her eyes roaming over the rest of them as she counted. “So our baby would be….tenth in line, even though he’ll be an alpha? You never mentioned anything about this.” 

A dark line appeared between his eyebrows, and there was a tinge of iron in the air. “I didn’t realize I needed to.” 

His voice had an uncharacteristically stern tone to it that they’d never heard him use on her before, and she backed down immediately. “I’m not upset! I just never realized…. I thought North Blue followed the same traditions as the rest of the kingdom- lands and titles passed down from one alpha to the next.” Her forced smile wavered for a moment. “I should have known you islanders would be different.” 

He stood up abruptly, dwarfing her. He was proud of his seafaring heritage, and it hurt when others thought less of him because of it. Hearing it from his wife must have been a huge blow. 

“You’re an islander now too,” he told her, making to leave. 

Now, Law may not have been his new step-mother’s biggest fan, but he couldn’t bear to see the two of them rip themselves apart over something so trivial. Well, okay maybe not trivial to everyone, but he figured that they could work things out. It was a bad idea to leave things like this regardless- he didn’t want to deal with a house that tiptoed everywhere to avoid further arguments between them. 

“Wait,” he said, snagging his father’s arm before he could stalk off. He ignored the frantic looks his siblings were giving him. “Wasn’t there something else you were going to tell us?” he prompted. 

His father blinked down at him. “Ah. Yes, I suppose I was….” he said reluctantly. He glanced around the room at his anxious children and softened considerably. “I was going to tell you- I’m reopening the gardens. I’ve hired a few people to get it cleaned up before the big party. I’ve been told that after a cursory look, that it shouldn’t be as difficult to accomplish as I feared. It seems that many of the plants have done well enough on their own, even without us to help them. They just need a little….assistance here and there,” he said, chuckling at the look of surprise on Law’s face. 

“Really? What about the rose garden- will the rose garden be ready soon?” Penguin asked excitedly, breaking the strained atmosphere of the room. His exuberance wavered a bit at the frown on Law’s face, but at Sengoku’s assurance that it would indeed be ready soon, he perked up again. 

Law should have been happy too. He’d always loved the gardens when he was younger, particularly the rose garden. He and Monet used to go in there and read together, soaking up the sunlight or resting in the shade. 

He hardly visited after she got sick. 

Instead, he’d visit her in her room while Jean Bart read books aloud to them. They would tease him for his lack of expression and inability to change voices for the characters, but despite his blushing, he never stopped. Monet was always trying to make Law smile- she said he smelled like roses when he was happy. If she couldn’t go to the gardens, then she would bring the garden to her. That was her favorite thing to say. 

And after she passed, Jean Bart started going to the gardens alone. He never asked Law to go with him- in fact, he seemed to find it hard to be around Law at all. Then of course, they found him in his perfumed bath. 

Nobody ever told Law he smelled like roses anymore. 

“Oh my, I’m sure it will be absolutely wonderful once the gardeners get it cleaned up!” Baby 5 cut in through his thoughts. 

His father finally lost all the tension in his shoulders, and smiled weakly at her. “Yes, it was quite lovely back in the day. I’m sure it will look just as splendid as it used to.” 

The cacophony of his siblings talking over each other as they tried to decide which section of the gardens they were looking forward to most, was heard only dimly to Law. It was like everything was being muffled. He gazed blankly out the window, not noticing as Lami came over to sit beside him and hold his hand. 

He thought he could see, somewhere through the distant shrubbery, a familiar straw hat. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, writing this chapter: okay we gotta talk about scents and whatever, as one does when they do abo even if it's not the main focus because it would be a crime not to. Time to assign specific scents to people  
Me: okay, obviously, being emotional will amplify your scent because this is abo fanfic we're talking about  
Me, having a fucking epiphany: wHat iF tHEir sCeNT ChAnGEd dEpeNDiNg oN wHAt tHeY weRE fEeLiNG?!?!?!
> 
> I don't know what's possessed me. I've literally never written anything this long before lol. I think the longest chapter i ever write prior to this behemoth was the 5.3k first chapter i wrote for this fic asklfjlafjlalalsfk. Idk babes, something about this one really gets me going ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> tho i will admit, i got like...a third of the way through and was like "don't i have to introduce luffy in this chapter?" *looks at word count* "Well, okay, guess who's not allowed to stop until they do"


	3. Spots and Roses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want you all to know that me updating this fic in like 3 months WITHOUT skipping past any of my other fics is like a fucking miracle  
hallelujah

It was amazing how quickly the gardens were put to order. Within a matter of days, they were as immaculate and enchanting as they were in the old days- perhaps even more so. Honestly, from what he remembered about taking care of them in the past, they shouldn’t have been so easy to fix up. Yet, somehow they were. 

Well, he wasn’t going to look the  gift horse in the mouth. 

He’d met the head gardener day after Sengoku made his big announcement. She seemed nice. Polite and friendly, but not intrusive. Intelligent, he was sure, despite the fact they’d barely spoken to each other. It was in her eyes. Her name was Nico Robin, and she was so mature and graceful that the Triplets had taken to watching her through the windows whenever she passed by, hoping that her elegance would rub off on them somehow. 

What with the family’s sudden reemergence into society and the big party planned for the Triplets, Sengoku had to hire more hands to help around. 

Apparently, Robin had convinced his father to hire a carpenter named Franky to rebuild some of the gazebos in the garden. The old ones were too far gone to really be salvaged, but were a much needed part of the gardens. After learning the extent of Franky’s building skills, he also set him to work on checking various other parts of the manor. He was a veritable handyman, and Law was pretty sure the carpenter had easily become his father’s favorite new addition. 

Makino’s illness unfortunately continued, so Sengoku hired Nami to tutor Sugar and  Lami in her absence. The fiery redhead was a little too demanding for Law’s tastes, so he tended to avoid her. Her eyes were a little too sharp for Law’s comfort.

There was also a new cook in the kitchen named Sanji, who was young but incredibly skilled. He made the most delicious food out of the most ordinary things, but he had a bad habit of flirting with any omega or beta that came within ten feet. The exception was Law, which he wasn’t sure was because Sanji originally hadn’t realized his secondary gender or because Law so clearly wanted nothing to do with his disgusting flattery. Whatever the case was, he remained cordial and polite, but refrained from hitting on Law in any sort of capacity- which he was all too grateful for. 

Aside from the relentless flirting, Sanji’s biggest issue was fighting with one of the other gardeners. Zoro looked like he belonged on a pirate ship, not trimming hedges, but he was working for them anyway. He and Sanji couldn’t be anywhere near each other or they’d start fighting like street cats. 

When he wasn’t brawling with the cook, Zoro was actually decent company. Decent for Law anyway, in that he left him to his business and didn’t bother him. His siblings thought Zoro was terribly boring for being so quiet, but Law thought it was his favorite quality in the man. Much easier to be around than Nami’s screeching or Sanji’s declarations of love. 

He was joined by Chopper- who was the same age as the Triplets but looked like he was Lami’s age instead- and Usopp- who was Bepo’s age. Law was annoyingly fond of Chopper. He may have talked a lot more than Law preferred, but he was so endearing that the older boy could put up with it. He’d been so impressed that Law knew some of the more intricate rules of gardening and about the medicinal uses of various plants that he’d taken to asking him about it whenever they stumbled upon each other. 

Usopp was alright too, he supposed. He had a weird habit of making up the most ridiculous stories over the most mundane things, but it kept the younger kids entertained. Sometimes they’d go hunt him down to get him to tell them a story while he did his work. His nose was so absurdly long, Law sometimes wondered if it was because of the crazy lies he told. 

And then there was Luffy. 

Imagine his horror when he found out that the stranger who’d ran him over at the docks was working in his beloved gardens. It was surely revenge for sticking his nose into Scarlett’s death. There was no other reason for him to be tortured like this. 

Every day , he was forced into contact with the menace, no matter how hard he tried to avoid it. 

He tried not going to the gardens the first few days, but Luffy always ended up chancing upon him anyway. Either he’d burst in on Lami and Sugar’s lessons to talk to Nami during the two minute period Law had chosen to check on them, or he’d run into him with a pile of snacks he’d bribed Sanji for on his way out of the kitchen at the exact moment Law walked down the hall, or he would find him the same time Franky had pulled him aside to ask him his opinion on gazebo styles, or some other completely coincidental yet ridiculous reason. After that he kind of just gave up and went to the gardens anyway. If there was no avoiding Luffy, then he might as well get to see what the other man was here for. 

It was getting colder, but it was still warm enough for Law to enjoy spending time in the gardens. Franky hadn’t completed the gazebo in the rose garden just yet, but the others had managed to create a little sunflower house in a different area. It had morning glories interspersed with the sunflowers to create a sort of roof over them, and a bed of creeping phlox to carpet the inside. He had no idea how they managed to get them to flourish so far outside their season, but he wasn’t complaining. 

Law had crawled inside with Bepo and Lami earlier while his mild mannered brother read her a story about a princess that was forced to marry a monster, but the other two were called inside part way through. Lami had to finish her dress fitting, and Viola wanted Bepo to help turn Shachi and Penguin into acceptable dancers. It wouldn’t do if they scared off potential suitors by treading all over their toes. 

He could have left to join them, or at least to watch on in amusement, but he was kind of tired that afternoon. He figured it wasn’t quite chilly enough for him to catch a cold if he took a nap out there- as long as it wasn’t too long. Besides, he had a feeling he’d need some rest before Viola dragged him to his own fitting that afternoon. He was just about to doze off when someone came dashing in, tumbling through the phlox and knocking the wind out of him. 

“ Shishishishi \- sorry  Torao ! Lost my balance! Are you taking a nap?” the bane of his existence asked. The idiot couldn’t even pronounce his name right. Chopper assured him it was common  occurrence for Luffy to butcher people’s names, but he couldn’t help but wonder if the alpha didn’t specifically do it to him just to piss him off. 

“I was  _ trying _ to,” he grumbled. Leave it to Luffy to show up at the worst possible moment. Maybe if he strangled him no one would notice, and he could spend the rest of his morning in peace. That wouldn’t be so bad, would it?

If Luffy noticed Law’s murderous thoughts, he gave no outward sign of it. He merely rolled off of him to sprawl out in the remaining space. “You can go back to sleep then! I’ll be real quiet- I’m hiding from my Gramps.”

He almost asked him why he was doing such a thing, but then he remembered that he was supposed to be ignoring Luffy and whatever shenanigans he was getting into and decided to keep his mouth shut. If Luffy wanted to hide from his grandfather, then who was Law to stop him? Given how childish he was, he was probably just playing hide and seek or something. 

Law huffed, but turned over so his back was facing the other. It was hard to imagine that he could fall asleep after having someone land on top of him, but he was going to try. He wanted to soak up every last moment in the garden he could before the cold season swept in and took it from him, and he’d be damned  if he let Luffy chase him out now that he was here. 

That being said, he already suffered plenty from insomnia at night, and it certainly didn’t improve in the daylight hours. Any hope for a light nap before duty called had  dissipated in the thin beams of sunlight that made it through the canopy. 

He held back a disappointed sigh, resigning himself to sullen wakefulness when he felt Luffy reach out to lay a hand on the back of his neck. All the muscles in his body froze up at the unexpected skin contact- it was one thing for the alpha to tumble into him on accident, but to purposely touch him in such a sensitive spot when no one else was around? He was pretty sure his heart had stuttered to a stop. 

Everyone knew you weren’t supposed to touch someone else’s neck without permission. That region was reserved for those dearest to you like close friends and family. Or lovers. It was definitely not for annoying alphas you met less than a week ago. 

His only solace was that he didn’t think Luffy did it as some sort of alpha claiming bullshit. Although the fear of such a thing happening to him still niggled in the corner of his mind that would never let him forget he was an omega, and therefore most likely to be preyed upon by dickbags who thought they deserved to own him. 

The second Luffy touched his neck, Law stopped breathing. He didn’t dare to. It felt like if he tried to take in a breath, the surrealness of the moment would shatter, and he would have to confront the fact that someone he barely knew was touching him so intimately. 

“Your spots sure are pretty, Torao,” Luffy said, shattering the silence. 

Oh. He let out a slow sigh of relief. Of course the moron would ignore all sense of common decency because he wanted to touch the white patches of Law’s skin. He’d taken the chance to do it while Law’s back was turned and unable to swat his hands away like he usually did. It may have been a stupid move, but at least it was an innocent one. 

He reached back slowly to brush the other’s hand off. “Don’t touch me,” he said, but it lacked its usual heat. 

Luffy laughed quietly but withdrew his hand. He didn’t say another word, and Law soon found his eyes drooping. The sudden spike of adrenaline that had shot through him when the other rested his hand on his skin had left him just as abruptly as it came, leaving him more tired than before. Perhaps he would get his nap  after all . 

* * *

Sengoku made his way through the gardens with Garp as his old friend attempted to find his grandson. 

“That brat. He comes all the way out to Swallow Island, and doesn’t even bother to tell me! I had to hear it from his brothers, and even they took their sweet time giving me the information. Worse yet, I bet they warned the little upstart, so he’s hiding from me. Well, it won’t do him any good! He’s going to get a good taste of my fist of love, that’s for sure!” he bellowed, scaring the few birds around into flying away. 

Sengoku tried not to roll his eyes at his friend’s antics.  Garp was near and dear to his heart, but he couldn’t blame the boy for avoiding his grandfather. Sengoku himself was spared from  Garp’s ridiculous and violent displays of affection, and he didn’t envy anyone who was on the  receiving end of them. 

“What’s this way? The rose garden, is it?” Garp asked, leading them down another winding path in the maze of hedges. 

“No, this way should lead to the sunflower house,” he replied, but he nearly stopped when he caught the whiff of roses in the air. They were too far from the rose garden to be smelling the blooms from their location, but the scent was  unmistakable . 

“Garp, quiet down for a minute, will you?” he said, pushing past the man to take the lead. 

They were too far to smell the rose garden, but one of his children had a very distinctive scent that would have  deceived their noses if said child was particularly happy. It was not something that he’d smelled off his son in years though. Not since Monet had passed away. But if they were both smelling it so strongly….

He crept forward, taking care not to make any noise that might give his presence away as he approached the sunflower house. It was a sizeable structure, considering what it was made of, but he still had to stoop in order to see properly inside. 

There, sleeping soundly, curled up on his side with Luffy’s hand carding through his hair, was Law. 

Luffy held up a finger to his upturned lips, never stopping his ministrations with his other hand. Shocked, Sengoku merely nodded his understanding. There was no mistaking it now. The smell of roses was emanating from Law. 

He pulled back slowly, grabbing Garp’s arm as he passed him. His friend was mercifully silent through the whole exchange, having not seen his grandson and observed the way Sengoku was intent on not making a disturbance. It wasn’t until they were well away from the sunflower house that he spoke up again. 

“What was that about?”

Sengoku allowed himself a hesitant smile. “Oh, nothing you need concern yourself with at the moment,” he said blithely.

He didn’t elaborate any further on the subject, no matter how hard Garp tried to pry it out of him. 

* * *

Law woke up to Viola hollering for him as she stormed through the hedges, alone and far more rested than he’d felt in ages. She ranted at him about falling asleep outside when he  _ knew  _ they had to go to the tailor’s shop in Lvneel, so he could have his final fitting. The dressmaker who worked on Lami that morning had come for an appointment with an elderly woman on the island who struggled to make it out to Lvneel, so the dressmaker had brought Lami and Sugar’s along since she was already nearby. Law was not so fortunate however, and had to depart to visit the tailor making his outfit on the adjacent island. 

It was only a couple days until the Triplet’s party, and he still hadn’t seen what his outfit actually looked like. During his past fittings, Viola had blindfolded him and threatened to skin him alive if he so much as peeked, so he was very much in the dark about the final look. He knew more or less what it felt like to wear the outfit at least. It wasn’t uncomfortable. That was all he could really say about it though. 

She told him very smugly that today was the day he’d finally see all her hard work come to fruition. 

Hooray. 

Bepo, Dellinger, and Baby 5 all tagged along with him and Viola to the fitting. Bepo had some minor alterations to check on, but Dellinger and Baby 5 were just there for fun. 

He was somewhat recalcitrant when Viola blindfolded him again, but gave in to her exasperated prodding eventually. Apparently, he wasn’t allowed to see it until he was completely dressed to get the full effect. Which explained why she had brought his shoes along for the trip. He still thought it was overkill when she threw a bolt of fabric over him so that she could dramatically whip it off to reveal his appearance to everyone else. It was awfully rude of her to push him while he couldn’t see anything, let alone while trying not to trip over the fabric she’d tossed over him. The pedestal she made him crawl onto didn’t help either. 

Judging by the gasps after she ripped it off, he must not have looked too bad then. Unless they were gasps of horror instead of delight, and he was completely misreading the situation under his blindfold. 

“Can I  _ please _ take this thing off now?” he grumbled, picking at the dark cloth over his eyes. 

Instead of answering him using words, his sister spun him around without warning- nearly toppling him in the process- and pulled the blindfold off with a flourish. 

It took a few moments blinking at the brightness before he finally saw past the spots in his eyes and into the long mirrors that showed his reflection. 

The midnight blue of his tunic was broken up by little glass beads that trailed down him like stars tracing unknown constellations, gathered closer at his shoulders and spreading farther apart until there was nothing but dark blue fabric at his legs. The collar of it was high enough that it covered his neck- thank gods for that- and it ended about halfway down his thighs. A silvery blue cape was attached right beneath his shoulder blades in iridescent organza that extended past the pedestal and bunched up on the floor. The leggings he wore were of a similar color, and they were so soft to the touch he was relieved that at least he would be comfortable in them. Then there were the shoes of course, to complete the whole array.

“Oh, Law! You look so handsome! Someone is sure to sweep you off your feet at the ball!” Baby 5 gushed, leaping up from her seat to come fawn over him. She smiled sunnily up at him, completely oblivious to the look of distaste that her words had brought to his own features. 

Viola didn’t miss the look however, and smirked at him. “Yes, I’m sure suitors will be tripping over themselves to gain your affection. Who knows- you might even catch yourself a duke,” she crowed, dodging the light kick he aimed her way. 

“A duke?”  Bepo squeaked, stepping out from behind another fabric screen. His clothes were far simpler than anything else the rest of his siblings ordered, but it suited him. The peach tone of his tunic looked nice against his pale skin and even paler hair. The mention of other nobility coming to the ball made him turn a rather unsightly green though. Frankly, Law couldn’t blame him.  Technically , they were also nobles, but they were raised awfully differently than the ones from the mainland. Although, he had a feeling that also had to do with their adopted status as well. There always felt like there was an invisible wall between the islanders and the mainlanders, no matter their blood status. 

He wasn’t exactly thrilled to have a bunch of mainlanders fill his home and complain about how lacking they found it. 

It was not an opinion his siblings tended to share- unless a mainlander had recently offended them somehow, but there had been a distinct lack of them since Monet’s death. 

Dellinger hopped over to take a closer gander at Law’s  outfit as well, fingering the translucent cape that trailed behind him. “Yeah, Papa said he invited all the eligible suitors he could. He invited every naval officer he knows too- I watched him write out the invitations for ages. There were so many!” he exclaimed. He was clearly excited at the prospect of having suitors lined up at their door. 

Law couldn’t think of a more horrifying scenario. He didn’t care for alphas leering at him  _ or  _ looking down on him for not being the stereotypical ideal of omega. In fact, if any of them tried it at the party, he was going to break their damn noses. 

His best expectation was to find someone whose hair matched the lock from Scarlett’s pocket watch. He’d taken to carrying it with him everywhere, searching heads for specific black curls. It wasn’t going too great. There were an awful lot of people on the islands with black hair, but he had a hard time finding reasons for them to have murdered his sister. 

Just then, the shop owner Terracotta came bustling in on the tails of a woman Law had never seen before. They were quickly followed by another pair of unfamiliar women he assumed were with the one that was speaking to Terracotta as if the older woman ought to kiss her feet and offer up her firstborn. 

“I’ve heard he’s on the island, and I must look my best,” she said imperiously, flipping her long dark locks over her shoulder and jutting out her well endowed chest that was entirely too exposed for any sense of modesty. 

The two women behind her shared an amused look. Perhaps this was normal behavior for her. 

Terracotta was a kindly older woman that had an abundance of patience and determination- which she used in droves to force Law to deal with Viola’s less than satisfactory treatment of him. She said it was all for his own good, and seeing the results, it was hard to argue with her. Well, not too much anyway. It was probably this attitude of hers that made her willing to put up with the snotty woman who had barged in. 

“Of course, Madame. I’m sure we can whip something suitable for you in no time,” she said placatingly, gesturing for her to take a seat nearby. She gave their group an apologetic glance, but it was clear that the stranger would not be leaving any time soon. 

Bepo edged behind Law to hide, although even Law’s tall stature was not enough to conceal Bepo’s broader shoulders. Baby 5 and Viola just stared at the new arrivals while Dellinger halted his inspection of Law’s cape to observe them curiously. 

The  stuck up woman’s eyes swept over the seats to land on their group, finally noticing that she and her party weren’t alone in the shop. Her eyes  narrowed on Law, and he fought the urge to scowl back at her. She marched over to the pedestal, and his family members all took a step back behind Law. He would have been offended, but he was too busy trying to appear unaffected by the woman’s piercing gaze. 

“This,” she said pointing straight at him, “I like. But it’s far too conservative for me. It will have to be altered- scrap the leggings, we’ll bring down the top and turn it into a gown, and naturally we’ll have to lower the neckline. Sleeveless might be the better way to go as well,” she said, grabbing his arm and scrutinizing it closely. Law very nearly ripped it back, but Viola grabbed his other arm in warning. There was something about the woman that screamed she shouldn’t be treated disrespectfully. 

She continued as if what she was doing was completely normal, and not at all rude. “Yes, it will look lovely once it’s fixed. And of course, the color will be so much more fetching against my skin tone,” she said, shooting the off colored patches on his hand a derisive look. 

That did make him snatch his arm back because no matter how rude it was for him to do so, she was behaving far worse. He tugged his sleeves farther down and tried to ignore the furious flush that had bloomed on his face. 

As much as he told everyone that he didn’t care if others found him attractive, that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt when they looked down on him for his appearance. He’d never admit it out loud, but his siblings all knew it anyway. Bepo reached out to hold his hand, and Dellinger shuffled closer as well. Viola said nothing, but he felt her grip on his arm tighten in outrage. Even Baby 5 was frowning in disapproval. 

“Hancock, that’s not very nice to say,” one of the other women piped up. Her wavy green hair swished gently as she shook her head in fond exasperation, and Law had to look away for the way it reminded him so strongly of Monet. The large bronze haired woman beside her nodded her agreement, but she too seemed to take the third woman’s behavior in stride. 

The name stirred something familiar in Law’s mind, but it took him a second before the realization hit him. 

Hancock. Boa Hancock, the goddess of love. He’d heard that she was a beautiful raven-haired woman, that had all manner of people falling at her feet regardless of primary or secondary gender, but that she spurned everyone’s advances. He’d never heard anything about her besides her beauty, but he supposed it was bad luck to go around telling everyone the woman was a complete asshole. The other two women must have been her sisters, Sandersonia and Marigold. He couldn’t remember much about them, being lesser goddesses, but he was pretty sure they could turn into snakes.

Terracotta looked more apologetic than ever as she stepped forward to address her. “Well, we can certainly design you a dress that fits those requirements,” she said, picking up a notebook and scribbling furiously in it. Her refusal to call the woman out on her rudeness now made perfect sense.

The goddess shot Law another contemptuous look. “You’ll have to get rid of this one as well. I hate when people try to copy my look and do it so poorly.” 

It was so astonishingly  stupid, Law didn’t know how to react. The last thing he wanted to do on this earth was copy her- and he wasn’t even doing it! She was copying him! Also, he was not getting rid of the outfit after Viola put so much effort into  it, goddess or no. 

Viola clearly felt the same way, surging past him to protest. “But-!” she began before loud shouting outside the room cut her off. 

“You’re going to feel as much of my fists of love as it takes to get that head of yours screwed on straight!” someone boomed. The familiar sigh of their father was almost drowned out by the next voice. An all too familiar voice. 

“Oh, come off it, Gramps! You just like hitting me!” Luffy yelled back. He’d traveled to the next island, and somehow Luffy still stumbled into him. The gods must love torturing him. 

The trio walked into the next room- or perhaps he should say duo, seeing as Luffy was being carried under his grandfather’s arm like a child- and the other’s untimely appearance suddenly made sense. Monkey D. Garp was a naval vice admiral, and he was also Sengoku’s oldest friend. Law really should have connected the dots between him and Luffy sooner, but he’d spent the years knowing the older man just calling him Garp and nothing else. He only knew his surname because he read it over Sengoku’s shoulder one day while his father was writing him a letter. 

It did explain why Luffy was hiding from him earlier that day. Garp was very fond of violence. 

Sengoku perked up when he saw his family, striding over to take Baby 5 in his arms and smile at the rest of them. “Law, you look wonderful. I see Viola’s efforts have not gone to waste,” he said, face falling a bit at the strained looks on everyone else’s. Law tugged his hand out of Bepo’s so he could cross his arms over his chest, hunching in slightly on himself. He could still feel the humiliated flush that burned his skin, and he pointedly refused to look anyone else in the eye, lest he do something even more embarrassing like cry.

“Wow! You look great, Torao!” Luffy exclaimed, squirming out of Garp’s grip to run over. 

Law, in his pointed refusal to look at anyone else, missed the concerned look that Luffy gave him. He was too busy reminding himself to breathe normally and still the shaking of his hands. 

“Oh, Luffy! What a pleasant surprise!” Hancock said, startling everyone in the shop. Her voice had taken a sweet tone, and she was blushing attractively as she batted her eyelashes at him. If Law wasn’t focusing so hard on pretending everything was fine, he would have laughed. She practically had hearts in her eyes. 

Luffy, however, didn’t seem to notice. “Oh, hi Hammock. I didn’t see you there,” he said, picking his nose and tilting his head as if she were a strange rock he’d found on the road. 

Everyone except Sengoku, who had no idea who she was, gaped at him in shock. 

Law took back his assumption that Luffy said his name wrong because he was being a jerk. Clearly, it was because Luffy was apparently just that dumb.  _ Hammock _ . It was a miracle she didn’t smite him on the spot. 

At least, that’s what he thought, but her sisters weren’t of the same opinion. Based on their commiserating look, they were quite used to Luffy treating their older sister so disrespectfully. If it had come from  anyone else, she surely would have destroyed them, but she was so obviously smitten with the alpha that it didn’t matter. 

“What are you doing here?” Luffy asked, completely nonplussed. 

She blinked demurely up at him, clasping her hands against her chest. “Well, I heard you were nearby, so I came to see you! And I thought I should look my best for you, but nothing I had seemed good enough, so I came here to have something made,” she said, simpering at him. “Those colors would look so much better on me, don’t you think?” she asked charmingly, and gave Law another disparaging look. 

He took that as his cue to leave, finally deciding that enough was enough. He stepped down from the pedestal, sweeping past the others to go change and being mindful not to step on the cape, even if he wasn’t going to wear it after this. It would be poor taste to tread all over Viola’s and the tailor’s work. His jaw was clenched so hard it was starting to ache.

Bepo was the only one to follow him, but that was okay. Most likely, his other family members knew he wanted to be left alone. His brother was the exception because Bepo wouldn’t try and talk to him about what just happened. 

* * *

When he emerged again, everyone else had left. Terracotta told them that the rest of their family were on their way back to the docks to return to Highmoor. Luffy and Garp had followed Sengoku, but she said the three alphas had other business to attend to before they went home. And the gorgon sisters had left as soon as Luffy did, although not without a tongue lashing from the boy first. 

She said she’d never seen anyone talk to a goddess like that and live to tell the tale, but Luffy must have been one of a kind. He’d also insisted that Hancock stop butting in on Law’s outfit choices, and that she leave him alone- which the goddess had looked truly perturbed about. Nonetheless, she’d agreed and ordered something else in vibrant red instead. Supposedly so she could match Luffy better. 

Law didn’t know what to say to any of that, but Bepo thanked the tailor profusely and promised they would be back another time to partake in her excellent service. 

Stepping outside, Law took a moment to breathe in the fresh air. The salt on the breeze was more than welcoming after how suffocating it felt back in the shop. He let his eyes fall closed, letting some of the tension in his shoulders finally relax. 

It was just as he opened his eyes that he caught sight of a  recognizable face among the throngs of people shopping.

Kyros. 

He was across the street, talking to some other men, and covered head to toe in black. Their eyes met, and Kyros immediately paled, bowing to his companions and hurrying off. 

“ Kyros !” he called over the hustle and bustle of the street, and he saw the older man come to a halt, shoulders sagging in  resignation before he turned warily to face him. 

“Law,” he said evenly, although his eyes flitted over him like he refused to believe he was there. “Forgive me, I wasn’t expecting you to look so…fresh,” he said. 

Law colored a bit at that, tugging on the sleeves of his slate blue jacket. He’d become so accustomed to the frenzy up at Highmoor, he’d nearly forgotten about the mourning clothes. All of their black clothes and the dark fabric that had been draped over furniture had been burned in a bonfire that lasted for three nights. The manor was full of sunlight and fresh flowers, and new clothes arrived for them every day so their armoires were a riot of color. The only trace of mourning left was the black ribbon Sengoku allowed Law to keep- the one he hadn’t even wanted to wear before. But times changed. 

“There have been some…changes at Highmoor,” he said carefully. 

Kyros took in the distinctly not black clothes he was wearing and nodded. “Yes, I heard. I’m afraid I have to be going, if you’ll excuse me,” he said curtly, ducking through the crowd before Law could stop him. 

But it didn’t matter. 

Up close, Law had been able to see it more clearly. He pulled out Scarlett’s  pocket watch , and ran his fingers along the lock of hair encased within. It was a perfect match to the dark curls that spilled down  Kyros ’ back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god i'm so mean to law. sorry law. sort of. i live for the angst lol  
this is actually the fic that i made this outfit for, but somehow it ended up in a different one first lmao. ah well. it's showing up in virtually all the other ones too now lol


	4. Dark Waters

Law had wanted nothing more than to return home to Highmoor after the debacle at the tailor’s, but his family had other plans. Although Terracotta told Bepo that Baby 5, Viola, and Dellinger were headed to the docks, the trio had actually changed their minds and decided to try cheering Law up instead. Unfortunately, their ideas of cheering him up were the opposite of what he actually wished for. 

They whisked him from shop to shop, plying him with all sorts of things he didn’t need, but he didn’t have the heart to tell them to stop. It was hours before they finally returned home, and he was practically dead on his feet. 

Before he got any rest however, he wanted to find his father and ask him if Kyros had ever approached him about courting Scarlett. He figured he would drop off his purchases in his room before tracking down Sengoku, but he got distracted by the wet footprints on the hallway carpet. 

Peering around the boxes in his hands, he saw steam billowing out from the bathroom. The air smelled of roses and jasmine, the scent so distinct that he reeled with memories of Monet and Jean Bart swirling through his mind. Roses and jasmine- Law and Monet’s scents when they were happy. Jean Bart had a special blend of soap made in Lvneel just for him of the two flowers. Law hadn’t smelled the combination since the day his brother’s body was discovered. One of his siblings must have come across a bottle and decided to try it for themselves. 

It smelled lovely, but it twisted up his insides and made his hands clammy. 

Steeling himself, he followed the footprints down the hall where they ended outside Lami’s room. She lay on the floor with her sketchbook in front of her and a colorful array of pastels surrounding her. 

He sighed lightly and leaned against the doorway. “You’re lucky I caught you and not Papa,” he said. 

“What do you mean?” she asked with a puzzled frown, sitting up and dropping the yellow pastel she’d been drawing with. 

“You didn’t dry off properly, and now the hall is a watery mess,” he said, rolling his eyes. “You know how much he loves that dumb carpet.” Supposedly it had been a gift from Cora, before any of them were around. Law could see the sentiment behind it, but Cora really did have awful taste. The rug was the color of puke- something they could all attest to after Sugar had vomited on it once and none of them had noticed immediately until Shachi had stepped in it. That had been a long day. 

“I take my baths at night. I’ve been in my room all afternoon. See?” she said, holding up her dry and multicolored hands. Now that he looked at her closely, he could see that her hair was perfectly dry as well, which would have been odd if she’d been bathing. She didn’t bother tying it back when she took her baths, and it often got tangled into wet clumps that he had to brush out for her. 

He adjusted the boxes in his arms. “Well, who was it then? Sugar? One of the triplets? It’s still steaming.” 

“They’re all in the gardens, tying ribbons to the flower bushes,” she said with a shrug. 

He glanced back at the rug where the footprints were starting to disappear. Upon closer inspection, they were far too big to belong to Lami. 

“You’re sure the triplets weren’t up here?” he asked. 

She crossed her arms of her chest. “Positive,” she replied. 

“Well, someone left footprints up here, and they lead straight to your room.” 

“Not my room,” she said, gathering up her art supplies. She gestured across the hallway at the door across from hers. “Jean Bart’s. 

His hands clenched around the load in his arms, and he fought back a scowl. “Look, I know you pilfered his soap- it reeks of roses and jasmine,” he said. 

“It wasn’t me.” 

“Then who?” 

She gave another meaningful look at Jean Bart’s room. 

“No one is in there,” he said, trying not to lose his patience. 

“You don’t know that.” She said it with such surety that Law almost believed her. But nobody ever touched Jean Bart’s room, much less stepped inside it. 

He carefully lowered himself to the floor, setting his purchases aside so that he could take her hands in his. “What do you mean? Who would be in his room?” 

Lami studied him for a long moment, clearly trying to decide if she should tell him or not. Eventually she pulled her hands out of his and opened her sketchbook back up, flipping through the pages until she found what she was looking for. 

It was a picture of Jean Bart standing forlornly outside Monet’s door, dripping water onto the carpet with rose petals caught in his hair and shoulders. There was a date written beside it, scrawled in a shadowy corner by his foot. Lami had drawn it recently. 

“Are you having nightmares again? Dreaming of Jean Bart?” 

Lami often suffered from night terrors. She’d scream so loudly that even Sengoku would rush up from his study on the other side of the manor. When pressed, she could never remember what they were about. Law was likewise plagued by nightmares, but he suffered through his silently, so no one came running for him. 

“It’s not a dream,” she said quietly. 

He brushed aside the chill that crept over him. “No in is in there. Here, I’ll show you,” he said, getting to his feet and holding out his hand. 

She shook her head and eyed the door nervously like she was afraid it would rip off its hinges and spring at her. Her scent spiked with the tangy smell of citrus. 

He huffed. “Fine. I’ll just do it myself.” 

The footprints were almost gone, fading out of the carpet. If he’d come upstairs a minute or two later, he would never have seen them. He walked purposely across the empty hallway, fingers curling around the door handle. A light rustle behind him told him that Lami had followed. She paused on the threshold of her own room, staring at him with wide, pleading eyes. 

“Don’t go in,” she begged softly. 

Something about the way her tiny hand dug into the door jamb sent a streak of cold fear racing down his spine. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled, rising in defense against some unseen horror. It was ridiculous, but he couldn’t quite shake the look of fear in her eyes. 

He pushed the door open resolutely, but kept his feet planted in the hallway. 

The air felt thing and dusty. After his funeral, the maids had stripped the bedding and covered the furniture in thin, gauzy cloth. They never returned to clean it. 

He took a step into the room and ignored Lami’s short gasp of fear. After a cursory sweep of the room, he turned to her. “There’s no one in here.” 

Her amber eyes drifted to the upwards as she bit her lip. “Sometimes he visits Monet,” she said timidly. 

Monet’s room, another shrouded, untouched shrine that no one dared enter. Except perhaps their father, who Lami said she could hear crying in her room at night. 

An involuntary shiver snapped him from the eerie trance Lami wove. “Who does, Lami? I want you to say it and see how absurd it sounds,” he said sternly. This was getting out of hand, and he wasn’t going to have his little sister stirring up ghosts where there were none. 

Her lip wobbled and eyebrows drew together at his tone. “Jean Bart.” 

He massaged his temples and took a deep breath, regretting it when all he could taste was the stale air of his dead brother’s room. “Jean Bart is dead. Monet is dead. They can’t visit each other because they’re dead and the dead don’t visit.” 

“You’re wrong!” she snapped, racing into her room and snatching up her sketchbook once more. She held it out, unwilling to even enter the hallway. 

He took it with a barely repressed sigh, flipping through the pages, searching for whatever proof she seemed to think the drawings would offer. “What am I supposed to be looking at?” he asked tersely. 

She flipped to a scene in black and white. In it, Lami cowered into her pillows as a shadowy Scarlett ripped the bedsheets from her. Her head was set an unnatural angle, and he wasn’t sure if she was supposed to be laughing manically or if the odd angle was supposed to reflect her fall off the cliffs. 

He drew a horrified breath. “You drew this?” 

She nodded. 

He studied his little sister carefully. “When the fishermen brought Scarlett back, did you see her?” 

“_ No _,” she said, flipping the page. A chalk white Jean Bart floated in a red pool of ink, staring balefully at a robed Lami, ready for her nightly bath. 

She turned another page. Monet hovered over a dozing Sugar in the rose garden, plucking petals off one of the blossoms. She seemed unaware that one of her hands had atrophied so badly that it was ineffective for pulling off petals, or of the black patches and festering pustules that littered her skin. 

Another page. 

He took the sketchbook from her, trying to still the trembling of his hands. There was only one portrait of Cora in Highmoor, and it was with his face unpainted and serious and young. Younger than Law was now. The sketch looked nothing like it. 

“You were too young to remember Cora,” he said numbly. She’d only been a baby when he saved them. She couldn’t possibly know what he looked like. Sure, she had heard Sengoku and occasionally Law tell her what the man had looked like, but seeing and hearing were two very different things. Just hearing about Cora would not have been enough to capture the goofy grin he wore or the frayed ends of his tasseled hat that were burnt from where he’d accidentally set them on fire while smoking once. He’d never even told her about that. Not specifically. 

He turned another page to find a drawing of all four of them watching Lami as she slept, hanging from nooses, their dead eyes caught in a beam of moonlight. The book dropped from his hands in disgust, and sheets of loose paper escaped in an explosion of gruesome scenes. 

They tumbled into the hallway like macabre confetti, dozens of pictures of his loved ones scattered across the floor. In the pictures they were doing things, perfectly ordinary things he’d seen them doing before, but in every drawing they were unmistakably dead. 

“When did you do these?” he asked, voice quivering. 

She shrugged. “Whenever I saw them.” 

“Why?” He glanced back into Jean Bart’s seemingly empty room. “Is he there now?” 

She took a tentative step into the hallway so she could scan the room before looking back at him. “Do you see him?” 

The hairs on his arms rose. “I’ve never seen any of them.” 

She picked up her sketchbook and retreated back to her bedroom, leaving the loose pictures scattered across the hallway. “Well… Now you’ll know to look.” 

* * *

“It was Cora, I swear,” he told Tsuru as he trailed the old woman around the dining room. She heaved a basket of violet ranunculus up onto a side table and wiped her hands on her apron. Even she had been enlisted as extra help for the day. 

The day of the Triplets’ ball had dawned gray and overcast. A thick, soupy fog blanketed the island. Even though it was well after noon, the gaslights burned brightly, illuminating the army of workers bustling about with final tasks before the guests arrived. He’d been following Tsuru around as she worked, explaining about the horrible pictures Lami had shown him. 

“You’re telling me Lami sees ghosts? Of your family?” she asked, swatting at someone who was lounging against a pillar and laughing as his coworkers struggled with a chandelier. 

“Yes,” Law said, ducking out of the way of a pair of workers bringing in another ladder. 

She hummed absentmindedly. “Ghosts don’t exist. Your siblings and Rocinante are in their eternal rest, deep in the salt. They wouldn’t be here. Lami’s imagination runs wild. You know that.” 

His heart sank. Viola’s reaction had been similar when he told her about the picture the night before. She had kicked him out of her room on the basis that she needed a good night’s rest before the party. And she wasn’t going to get it if Law pestered her about dumb ghost stories that he concocted because he was bitter and bored. She hadn’t even offered him a candle before she shut the door in his face, and it had taken all his willpower not to run down the darkened hallway in fear that Jean Bart was going to come out and grab him. 

Tsuru continued to give out orders to the other workers, pausing only to turn back to him and give him a pointed look. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” 

“I know you’re busy, but please listen. Lami didn’t know what Cora looked like. She was too young when he died.” 

Tsuru grabbed his shoulders and pulled him down so she could look him in the eye. “She’s a smart girl, Law. She’s seen that portrait of him in your father’s study and heard plenty about him from the two of you. I think you’re seeing what you want to.” 

He gaped at her in equal measures of hurt and shock. “Why would I _ want _ to see that? It was awful!” A shudder of revulsion swept over him as he remembered the terrible angle of their bodies. “And she didn’t even know that Scarlett broke her neck.” 

“She fell a hundred feet from the cliff walk. What else was her neck supposed to do?” 

He wished he had the pictures to help prove his case- they had been too detailed to just be from Lami’s imagination. Details that Lami shouldn’t have known, like the exact tilt of Cora’s lips when he smiled. But he’d thrown them in the fireplace as soon as he gathered them up, hands shaking all the while. 

A crash sounded in the kitchens, and Tsuru used the moment to push him aside. “Law, child, you’re about to drive me batty. I can’t remember if I’m supposed to be polishing the bedclothes or folding the silver. And Eustass is due any moment. You have plenty to prepare yourselves for upstairs, and I’m sure if you don’t head up there soon, your sister will barge down here to get underfoot as well. We can talk about Lami later, I promise- just please find something else to do right now.” 

His mind, which had been swirling with images of mutilated family members, stilled at her words. “Eustass is coming?” His first smile in ages began to tug at the corner of his lips. 

She nodded, face lighting up. “Your father invited him to the ball. He wants to introduce him to the captains and lords. He’s so proud,” she said, beaming. Then she swatted him with a tablecloth. “Now scoot! I’ll be along in a bit to help you hooligans with your hair and outfits.” 

He scampered off, taking the narrower but less crowded back stairs to avoid the foyer’s frenzy. As he approached the second floor, he could hear the Triplets squabble over the best mirrors and lip colors. Rebecca shouted for a maid to help search for a pair of wayward hair combs, and Law hurried away. 

Once in his room, he intended to lay out his outfit for the evening, but something on his vanity caught his eye. 

A battered looking envelope laid there with his name scrawled hastily on it. Curious, he opened it to find an equally battered note that looked like it had been torn off a stray piece of paper and something wrapped in a plain white handkerchief. He peered at the note and read: 

_ For your outfit _

_ -an admirer _

Well, that cleared up absolutely nothing. He picked up the bundle and carefully unwrapped it, wondering what he would find. Inside lay a beautiful moonstone brooch with intricate silver filigree curving around the edges. It was oval in shape, slightly bigger than a large coin, and somewhat simple, but no less beautiful for it. 

He tried to figure out why someone would have given it to him, or who had even seen him in the outfit before. He would have said Sengoku, but he would have recognized his father’s handwriting. Tsuru had seen him in it, and so had his siblings, but other than that he couldn’t really think of anyone. He had heard some of the workers gossiping about what his whole family planned to wear however, so maybe it was one of them? But that still seemed odd. 

“Are you going to take a bath or not?” Viola demanded, barging straight into his room without knocking. He fumbled with the brooch in surprise and cursed, but managed to keep from flinging it into some unknown corner of his room. 

“What’s that?” she asked, striding over and plucking it from his hands before he could reply. She bent over to pick up the note he’d dropped on the floor, and a smile spread over her face. 

He sighed, already sensing that he wouldn’t like whatever she was thinking. “Vi, don’t get any ideas now,” he warned. 

She pulled a face. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. You’re obviously going to have to wear this brooch tonight though,” she said, feigning nonchalance. “I’m surprised that someone managed to get something I didn’t think of. I even picked out your earrings and everything, but _ this _ will really complete your ensemble.” 

“Now, have you bathed yet?” she asked pointedly. 

He sank onto his bed and sighed. “No. I’m not even sure I’m going to.” 

She stomped over so she could loom over him. “Is this about Lami’s drawings? Jean Bart isn’t going to drown you in the damn bath tub, but I might if you make me late. Get in there before I dump you in myself.” 

“Gods, just take the bath, Vi.” 

“I won’t have you look anything less than your best tonight. I don’t care if you already have some secret admirer, we are _ both _finding suitors.” She grabbed his robe from a hook and threw it in his face. 

He grumbled but let her push him down the hall. 

It was with some satisfaction that he slammed the door shut in her face, locking it quickly to keep her from barging in and issuing more orders. He faced the bath tub with trepidation and forced himself to remain calm. Viola was right about one thing. He was being ridiculous. He’d taken plenty of baths in here before, and Jean Bart had never popped up to drown him. 

The pipes creaked and groaned like echoes of Scarlett’s screams when she’d found their brother’s body. 

He pushed the thought away, tossing in a bottle of some kind of soap into the tub- more than was necessary, but whatever- and dunked himself under the water. He tried to let the hot water relax his muscles, but his imagination was still running overtime. 

“You are being fucking ridiculous,” he chided himself before scrubbing his hair. The smell of rose and jasmine wafted through the air. He must have used the bottle one of his siblings found the other day. Of all the rotten luck. 

He forced himself to think of more pleasant things, his frazzled mind coming to settle on Eustass. He could hardly believe that he was coming. He hadn’t seen him in two years, not since Monet’s funeral. None of them were allowed to leave while the estate was in mourning, and Hyogoro kept the alpha busy up at the lighthouse, so he didn’t have time for frequent visits. But he’d been a constant fixture of Law’s childhood at the manor, and having him back made him feel a little lighter. 

It was silly of course, to think that just by having Eustass back, all his problems would suddenly disappear. In fact, Eustass was probably more prone to creating more of them for him, but he didn’t care. It would be nice to have someone around that might actually understand how he felt. 

Neither of them was particularly good at feelings, but that was why they understood each other. Everyone else was always trying to dig deeper into Law’s emotions, but Eustass just took them as they were. It was simpler. 

“Are you still in there? Hurry up!” 

He snorted. “I just need to rinse my hair!” he shouted back, chuckling a bit as she groaned and stomped away. 

Plunging under the water, his head cracked against the back of the tub. He came up with a curse, spitting out water, a hand reaching back to massage the spot, and when the stars cleared from his vision, he nearly shrieked. 

The water had turned a dark, murky red. Iron burned in the back of his mouth, and he struggled to push himself out of the tub. The bottom was slick with a silky viscosity however, and he fell with a spectacular thud, water splashing over the floor. He rubbed at his hip, already feeling an oncoming bruise. 

He was about to scream for Viola but was suddenly yanked under by an unseen force. Dark water rushed into his mouth, filling his esophagus as he sputtered on a cry for help. 

After a harrowing moment, he managed to crash back to the surface, coughing out as much of the vile red liquid as he could. Blood. The bathtub was full of blood. The air stank of iron and rose petals and jasmine that floated across the surface. He almost got his breath back before a hand gripped his leg, making his heart stutter in his chest. He couldn’t see it, but he could feel the size of it- far larger than his own, and icy cold. 

From the bloody waters, a figure started to rise, massive shoulders barely fitting in the cramped space. Jean Bart’s black eyes stared up at him, burning through him with hatred. 

Without a word, his brother lashed out with his free hand, curling it around the back of Law’s neck and plunging both of them back under. He scrabbled for purchase beneath the water, trying to pry his brother’s hands off, screaming until he ran out of air. But Jean Bart’s grip only tightened, and Law felt the sting of his fingers digging into the skin at the back of his neck. 

He lurched forward, gasping for air as he woke. 

He’d fallen asleep. It was just a dream. A terrible, terrible dream. 

Lowering back into the cooling waters- that were mercifully clear and not blood red- he let out a sigh of relief. It was short lived when Viola came pounding on the door. 

“Law, if you make me late, I swear I’m going to murder you!” she shouted through the wood. 

“Coming!” He pushed himself out of the water, wondering how long he’d been asleep. Staring at the white porcelain as he toweled off, he couldn’t remember why he’d been so scared in the first place. It was just a bathtub. Jean Bart dying in there didn’t change that. 

He wrapped himself in his robe and unlocked the door, barely stepping aside in time to avoid Viola walking into him. “Finally!” she said, bustling in with her arms full of towels, soaps, and oils. “What’s that on your neck?” she asked, glancing back at him. 

“What?” His hand slapped to the back of his neck where Jean Bart had clutched him in his dream, dread pooling in his gut. He tried to wiggle around in front of the mirror to look at it, but sadly human anatomy was just not made for that. 

She dropped her supplies on the floor and reached over to prod at it with her fingertips. “You scratched yourself.” 

“No, I didn’t.” 

“Sure you did. I get them all the time. It probably happened when you were scrubbing.” She began to pull her robe off before she paused, eyes narrowing at him. “You did scrub, didn’t you?” 

He scoffed. ‘Yes, Vi. I’m not Sugar. I do know how to properly wash myself.” 

She laughed but cut off when she noticed the full tub. “You didn’t drain it!” 

As she leaned in to find the stopper, a hand reached out of the water, grabbing her neck and pulling her under. Jean Bart surfaced from churning waters, his eyes covered in a sickly green film. 

“Viola!” he screamed, shattering the horrible image. She jerked away from the tub with an exasperated sigh. 

“What now?” 

He blinked, clearing his vision. He definitely wasn’t asleep this time. That meant… It was a ghost. Just like Lami said he would, now he knew to look. 

“I…” he trailed off. Viola had made it abundantly clear that she wanted nothing to do with their little sister’s visions. 

She stamped her foot with impatience. “Well? Get out. I need to bathe, and you need to get ready. Tsuru won’t have time to help you once she gets started on the Triplets, and you know that Rebecca will change her hair at least three times before she’s satisfied.” 

Without further ado, she pushed him out the door. 

At the end of the hall was a set of large silver mirrors. When they were younger, he and Bepo would stand in the middle looking into the reflection of their reflections until they were dizzy. 

Using the double reflection now, he lowered the back of his robe to look at his neck. Viola had called the marks on him a scratch. Like red lines. But they weren’t. They were crescent shaped marks that dug into his flesh, the same shape as fingernails. 

He pulled his robe up, hurried to his bedroom, and slammed the door. 

* * *

He flexed his feet in his new shoes, bemoaning that they had to do all this. They’d been standing in the receiving line for what felt like hours, and he was sick of it. To be fair, he’d been sick of it about five minutes in, but that didn’t improve as the night wore on. If he’d been wearing heels like Viola, he’d be limping to dinner. Honestly, he didn’t know how she could stand it. He peeked at her five inch heels, wondering how she was still standing. At least they were thick heels, not stilettos. 

She needled him in the ribs with her elbow. “Pay attention,” she mouthed with a raised eyebrow. 

“This is my wife Baby 5, and my eldest three, Viola, Law, and Bepo,” Sengoku said, greeting another couple. He shook the gentleman’s hand and kissed the tips of the woman’s fingers. “And these are the stars of the night, Rebecca, Shachi, and Penguin.” 

They all pasted on smiles and murmured their hellos and thanked them for coming. 

Shachi flashed open his fan with an impatient flutter, nearly whacking himself in the face, sneaking a look at the receiving line behind their father. “We’ll never get to dancing,” he hissed. 

Law snorted softly. “Shachi, weren’t you just complaining this morning about how you hoped nobody would ask, so they wouldn’t have to see you step on anyone’s toes?” he asked quietly. 

His brother sputtered while he and Viola chuckled, but they all shut their mouths when the next couple stepped up. 

Law glanced around the ballroom, hoping that some of the visitors had ventured into other parts of the manor. He could have sworn they’d greeted more people than this. The hall could easily hold three hundred people, but felt only half full. A string orchestra played underneath the murmurs of the crowd, making it seem livelier than it was. There was a fiddle player that seemed to lead the rest of the players, whose head rose above them, bobbing with a curly black afro, and he seemed the liveliest of them, but the room still felt too empty. 

Maybe the fog had detained some of the guests on the mainland. 

At least the ballroom didn’t disappoint. Velvet drapes, navy with silver tracings, were artfully arranged throughout the room, creating private nooks perfect for romantic assignations. Lush purple flowers dripped from fluted columns. The chandeliers gleamed and sparkled, crystal drops twisting and hanging down to reflect the light of hundreds of candles. 

But the most spectacular sight was the stained glass wall. It had been covered for years with black curtains, as if its mere presence stirred more joy than was proper in a house of mourning. Squares of blue and green glass gave way to teal and aqua higher up, with a frosting of white at the top, forming one wall of the ballroom into a veritable tsunami. The light from dozens of tall braziers on the patio illuminated the wall like a brilliant jewel, casting cerulean and beryl highlights across the guests. 

He caught sight of Sugar and Lami running through the crowds as Dellinger chased them. The younger boy had sprinted off after the first fifteen minutes without asking, and Sengoku hadn’t been able to call him back. 

Viola leaned in, whispering under her breath. “Those were the last guests, thank the gods. I’m starving.” 

“Do you remember any of these people’s names?” he asked as they headed in. 

“Besides the relatives? Not really,” she said with a shrug. “Although I think that one is named Cavendish,” she said, nodding discreetly at a young man their age with long waves of blond hair and clear blue eyes. He was standing in a group of young men looking up at one of the chandeliers. Viola’s cheeks flushed with a look of hunger that had nothing to do with their impending dinner, and it made Bepo blush when he noticed. “When do you think I should go talk with him?” 

Someone tapped Law’s shoulder. “What? No big, fancy greeting for me then? Not important enough for Mr. High and Mighty?” 

Turning, Law couldn’t quite keep the smile off his face. “Kidd!” his siblings cried. “Is that really you?” 

Years working at the lighthouse had changed him. He’d grown even taller, so that he still managed to tower over Law, and he’d filled out with more muscles too. There were new scars over one of his eyes and curling up his neck from under his shirt. When he pulled Law into a crushing one armed hug, he could feel all the power behind his new muscles. 

“In the flesh,” he said, guffawing as Law squirmed out of his embrace to glare at him. 

“I didn’t know you were coming!” Viola said, “Law, did you?” 

He huffed, brushing off the tunic that Viola had so lovingly designed for him. “Tsuru mentioned it earlier, but I forgot to tell you.” 

She raised a playful eyebrow at him, no doubt remembering her earlier talk of finding both of them suitors. The Triplets gathered around, eager to see the alpha again, and even shooting Law somewhat hostile looks for not telling anyone. 

“Seems like an awfully big thing to forget. But I’m sure it was unintentional,” Viola said. Her tone was teasing, but an edge darkened her words. “How long are you here for?” she asked, turning her attention back to Eustass. “It’s been so long since we’ve seen you. Tsuru must be thrilled you’re home.” 

He snorted loudly, their group drawing stares from the other guests. “Oh she’s thrilled all right. Already threatened to box my ears if I didn’t behave. And your old man asked me to stay on till Churning. He wanted to make sure I was at the big First Night dinner.” 

First Night, only weeks away, was the start of the Churning Festival, celebrating the change of seasons as Shanks stirred the oceans with his trident. The cold water below mixed with the cold air above. With fish diving deeper to spend the winter in semi hibernation, the villagers used the time to repair their boats, mend their nets, and spend time with their families. The festival lasted for ten days and grew progressively wilder as it wore on. Families of Sengoku’s finest captains were invited to welcome in the turning of the sea with a feast at Highmoor. Even in the midst of their deepest mourning, it was the one celebration that was always observed. 

“Wonderful. I can’t wait to hear all about your adventures at Udon, but first I’m on a mission of my own.” She strode away, cutting a roundabout sweep toward Cavendish, her eyes focused on his every movement. 

Bepo scuttled off to go hide along the wall, and the Triplets bade their own farewells, but not before getting Eustass to promise them each a dance. 

Eustass stepped closer and flicked the moonstone brooch pinned at Law’s throat with a finger. “Don’t you look awfully pretty, little lordling. So grown up. Caught yourself any secret admirers yet?” he teased. 

Law batted his hand away, and ignored the way his face flushed. The note that came with the brooch sprang to mind, but he wasn’t about to tell the other about that. Even if he did seem to be staring at it intently. Almost like he knew about where it came from. Law narrowed his eyes. “None of your damn business, Eustass.” 

“Gods, you’re not still calling me that, are you? Use my fucking name- your siblings do! It’s not my fault that your dad chose me to go to the lighthouse. Besides, you wouldn’t even like it. Hyogoro wakes me up every other hour to go clean the damn windows,” he groaned. 

Law flipped open his paper fan and hid his smile at the alpha’s complaining. Just like old times. He supposed it was petty to keep referring to him as his surname all the time. 

Eustass snatched it out of his fingers, holding it out high out of Law’s reach. “Nuh uh. You can have this back after you call me by my first name.” 

“You are such a child, _ Kidd _,” Law scoffed, “Didn’t your mother raise you with more manners?” 

“Didn’t your old man raise _ you _ with more?” Kidd sneered. Unlike Law was hoping, he didn’t hand the fan back immediately. Instead he flipped it over to read the names written on it- it doubled as a dance card, although the spokes were surprisingly empty. A couple of distant relatives had requested two dances, but that was all. Law was grateful he didn’t have to spend the whole night kissing up to strangers, but it was kind of odd. He was the brother to the guests of honor- people should have been filling up his dance slots. 

“My mom made me promise to dance with all of you at least once,” Kidd explained as he scribbled his name in for a waltz. 

Law rolled his eyes. That did sound like Tsuru. “Where are you stuck sitting at dinner? Far enough that I don’t have to look at your ugly mug?” 

Kidd shoved him none too gently in the shoulder, making him stumble and nearby guests gasp, scandalized. “Dunno. Haven’t had the chance to scour the place cards yet.” 

“Well, let’s go find out,” he said, shoving him right back and walking briskly toward the dining hall. 

* * *

Lami flopped into the chair next to him, breathing deeply. She tried to hide it, but he caught her yawning behind her hand. 

“Shouldn’t you be off to bed? It’s nearly midnight,” he said, pulling her close and tucking a wayward curl behind her ear. 

She puffed out her cheeks at him. “Papa said we don’t have to be little girls tonight. And I can’t miss this party! You or VIola could die, and then we’ll never have another one.” 

“Wh- Lami!” 

She scowled petulantly up at him. “What? It might be true.” 

He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed at her insensitivity. “Don’t say that where the guests can hear you, okay?” She slumped in her seat but nodded. 

“You haven’t danced much,” she observed. “And Viola looks peeved.” 

She was right on both counts. Law’s dance card hadn’t filled any more slots after Kidd wrote in his name twice. As for Viola, she stood near the crowd surrounding Cavendish. Her face was pinched and her laughter a little too loud. “He hasn’t made an introduction yet,” Law noticed. 

Lami put her chin in her hand, and struggled to keep her eyes open. If the orchestra had been playing a softer tune, she would be asleep in an instant. “I don’t think he’s talked to any of us besides Papa. It’s so rude. Even if he doesn’t fancy Viola, it’s the Triplets’ birthday. He should at least wish them many more happy years.” 

He’d noticed that as well. Law could as least pretend like the reason no one was dancing with him was because he gave off general vibes to stay away, but his sister? She was beautiful and social and someone they should have been flocking to. 

Penguin joined them, flopping into a chair and sprawling his limbs over the side, letting his light blue tunic rumple without a care. He’d spent so long fussing over his appearance in the mirror that afternoon, Law was surprised to see him treat his clothes so callously. He downed a glass of champagne in one swallow. “Scarlett’s wake was livelier than this.” 

“You haven’t been dancing much either?” he guessed. 

Penguin shook his head with a scowl. “Just with Kidd. And he doesn’t count since he’s dancing with all of us,” he said, nodding toward where the alpha was currently dancing with Sugar. Their little sister had only been five when she’d last seen Kidd, but evidently she still remembered how much he antagonized her, judging by the way she was purposefully stomping all over his toes. Kidd was clearly trying not to grimace, but kept his temper in check. Tsuru was watching like a hawk a little ways away. 

“It’s my party. Can’t I insist someone ask me?” Penguin said, sinking further into his seat. 

Lami shot Law a knowing look. 

“I just don’t get it,” Penguin moaned. “We all look lovely.” 

“Yes,” Law agreed, sensing his brother had a lot to get out. 

“We’re all well mannered- well, maybe not you, but you don’t care-” he said with a wave towards Law, “-and we have many fine and admirable qualities.” He said the last part with an exaggerated mainlander accent. 

Law hummed noncommittally. 

“We’re rich,” he spat out, throwing his arms in the air in frustration. Law began to suspect that he had drank more than his fair share of champagne that evening. “So why are we sitting in the corner with no dance partners?” He slammed the glass on the table, and it tipped over, rolling uncomfortably close to the edge before Law swiped it and set it up right out of the other’s reach. 

He gave Lami an exasperated look and motioned for her to find somewhere else to be. She obliged him without complaining, scampering off into the crowd. 

“I’d almost summon a Trickster here and now, just to have someone to dance with,” Penguin groaned, downing another flute after flagging one of the servers over. 

He plucked the empty glass out of his hands and shot him a disapproving look. “Don’t say things like that. There are enough whispers about our family as it is. Besides, if Papa hears you, he’ll have your head.” As if on cue, he and Baby 5 waltzed by, beaming radiant smiles at each other. It was hard to believe that they’d been sitting at Scarlett’s funeral mere weeks before. 

Pengiun started to wave for another flute of champagne, but Law cut him off. “What? If I’m not dancing, I might as well be lousy with champagne. Look- even Viola agrees,” he said, pointing. 

Law glanced across the dance floor just in time to see Viola throw back a glass of liquid courage. She took a deep breath and pinched her cheeks, drawing bright spots of color to her face. Her lips moved as if she were practicing her speech to Cavendish. 

As she made her way to him, Law thought she’d never looked lovelier. 

When she reached the outer edge of his circle however, she paused, tilting her head toward their conversation. A beat passed, and then another, and the rosy hue drained from her cheeks. She held one hand up to her mouth, and Law grew worried that she was about to puke all over the dance floor. 

She pushed a path away from the group, staggering back and bumping into a waltzing couple. She apologized profusely to the dancers before finding her way to where Penguin and Law sat. 

“We have to get out of here!” she hissed, pulling him to his feet and dragging him off without waiting. 

Penguin watched them hurry off, waving weakly at Law in confusion. “What are you- Vi, calm down! What happened?” he asked, trying to pry her vicelike grip from his arm. She didn’t stop to answer him until they were deep in the gardens. Thousands of tiny candles dotted ledges hidden throughout the topiaries. It would have been magical had the fog ever lifted. As it was, the little lights played strangely with the mist, creating shadowy phantoms, there one moment and gone the next. 

“Will you please tell me what’s upsetting you?” he asked, taking a seat on the edge of the fountain. 

“This was nothing more than a stupid farce!” She shook a fist at the house, stomping around. 

He drew his arms in close and rubbed them. It was way too cold to be out here right now, but the chill only seemed to heighten Viola’s senses. 

She studied Highmoor in silence. The ballroom, shining so brightly inside, could barely be seen. The orchestra’s music echoed eerily in the fog. 

“How many people danced with you tonight?” she finally asked. 

He sighed. “For fuck’s sake, is that all everyone is fixated on tonight?” 

She whirled around to grab his shoulders, a strange sheen in her eyes. In the foggy candlelight she looked half crazed. “How many?” 

“Three,” he said, wrenching free of her grasp. 

“The whole night?” 

“Yeah. I mean I guess I’m supposed to have another dance with Kidd if he still wants to after Sugar’s done murdering his toes-” 

She waved away his words, as if she already expected this. “Relatives, right? And not even many of those.” 

“I suppose not.” He grit his teeth to try and keep them from chattering. “I saw you try to talk to Cavendish. Will you just tell me what he said, so we can go back inside? We’ll catch our death out here.” 

She laughed bitterly. “The curse strikes again.” 

He stood up, fed up with trying to appease her. “There’s no fucking curse. I’m going back.” 

“Wait!” she grabbed him. “I’m sorry, Law, it’s just… I waited all night for him to introduce himself, but he never did. I decided I would go over and ask him to dance myself.” 

“Oh, Vi,” he said sadly. A lot of social conventions were stupid in his opinion, but they meant a lot to other people. Her asking an alpha to dance would only bring more unsavory rumors about their family. Improper. It was one thing for Law to be moody and avoid alphas, but it was another for his sister to be approaching them on her own. 

She frowned, dropping her hand. “I overheard him talking with one of his younger brothers. The brother was egging him on, daring him to ask Rebecca for a dance. He said no. The brother asked why, since she was so lovely.” 

“And?” he prompted, trying to rub some warmth back into his fingers. 

She exhaled with a shaky breath. “He said that yes, she was lovely. As lovely as a bouquet of belladonna. They think we’re poison, Law. That we’ll curse anyone that gets too close to us. That’s why none of us have been dancing!” she said, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. 

“I’m sure that's not-” 

“Oh, Law, of course it is!” she snapped. “Think about it. Whether there really is a curse or not, people believe in it. We’ve been tried and found guilty in the public’s opinion. Nothing will change their minds, no matter how many pretty parties Papa throws. We’re cursed, and no one will ever believe otherwise.” 

He thought back to his trip to Spider Miles, recalling the whispers that had quickly turned to jeers. Maybe she had a point after all. 

He threw an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “This doesn’t mean it’s over for us. There are plenty of other alphas and betas around. Other dukes in other provinces. Provinces that have never heard of Sengoku’s Shining Dozen or the dumb fake curse on us. It’s a vast kingdom.” 

She snorted in disgust. “People would just warn them off anyway. They’d all be jumping to be the ones credited with saving the poor sop that chose us.” She leaned her head on his shoulder. “At least we’ll always have each other. Siblings and friends till the end. Promise me.” 

“I promise,” he said, squeezing her a little tighter. 

A figure approached, silhouetted larger than possible against the mist, a cape swirling about his frame. For a moment, he thought it was Sengoku looking for them, but a moment later grew afraid that it was Jean Bart’s towering frame that he saw instead. Then the shadowy shape morphed into a woman with full skirts, and the fog swirled around them so it was too thick to see. But he heard the click of heels against stone and her laughter, carefree and breezy. 

It was Scarlett. 

His mouth went dry as he imagined her ghost, fated to walk an endless loop to the very cliffs that had claimed her life. When the fog dispersed, it was only Viola and Law in the garden. 

He could barely breathe. She’d have to take what he said about Lami’s drawings seriously now. 

“You saw that, didn’t you?” 

“Saw what?” she asked with a puzzled look. 

Dread swept down his spine. “The shadow. The laughter… It sounded just like Scarlett, didn’t it?” 

She gave him an unimpressed look. “Is this your way of trying to distract me? I think you’ve had too much champagne.” She turned with a swish of her skirts, heading back to the party and leaving him alone in the fog. 

Heels clicked behind him again, though the garden was empty, and he tried not to make it look like he was rushing to get back inside. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am on an updating ROLL. don't expect it to keep up lol. my goodness i can't believe it's been 6 months already since i last update this fic. yikes. wish i could say it won't happen again, but we all know that would be a lie lmao


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